


Closing Time

by Thatswherethelightgetsin



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, M/M, Politician Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, bookstore owner Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-27 02:47:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17153846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatswherethelightgetsin/pseuds/Thatswherethelightgetsin
Summary: Bucky just wants to save his bookstore from the Shield megastore opening up across the road. Steve just wants to help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the SteveBucky Christmas Exchange over on Tumblr for @Latinacap (I really hope you enjoy it!). It was meant to be a very simple, short, fluffy AU. But that's actually not something I'm capable of doing. So here's this instead.
> 
> This is finished, it's just massive, so I'm going to post it over a few days.

The bell above the door startled Bucky, he managed to kept his flinch mostly unnoticeable by switching the books he was holding into his other hand, as he took a steadying breath. He couldn’t keep the frown off his face, though, annoyed at himself for forgetting to just take the damn thing down. He didn’t bother trying to arrange his face into a more welcoming expression as he looked up to see who thought it was a good idea to come into a shop with one minute to go before closing. It had been an unaccountably long day and he just wanted to go home and stare blankly at the TV. He didn’t need another time waster, who wanted to browser for an hour, ask if he had the last Stephen King book and then leave without buying anything.

There was a moment where he tried to form a greeting before he realised who was standing in the doorway. He froze, surprise tingling up his spine, his eyes sharp on the newcomer.

The man had stopped a couple of paces into the shop, his head downcast, apparently focused on the leaflet he was holding. There was a frown between his eyes, like he couldn’t quite fathom what he was reading. Bucky knew what he was clasping in his hand; he’d spent his last few evenings plastering copies of it all over the closest neighbourhoods.

The man looked up, a lock of blond hair falling just so over his forehead and stopped abruptly when he saw Bucky. He blinked a rapidly, his forehead creasing in apparent confusion. “Sorry, I’m looking for the owner,” the man said, looking around as though expecting someone else to burst out from between the stacks.

“That would be me,” Bucky said, his voice flat. Most people didn’t think he worked here, he suspected that he didn’t really look the rare and second hand book type. Something about him seemed to broadcast something closer to menace than rare literature, no matter what he tried to do. Wanda had suggested that he try wearing fake glasses and oversized cardigans but Bucky suspected even that might not help. Usually he tried not to let people’s obvious surprise bother him, but it had been a long day and he didn’t need whatever trouble this visit was about to blow his way.

Because there was no way this could bring anything _but_ trouble.

The man continued to blink impossibly blue eyes at him as though in a trance before seeming to remember himself. He straightened his posture and smiled broadly, all perfect teeth. Bucky watched as the gesture transformed the man from slightly awkward into pure, polished charm. It made Bucky’s lips turn up in a snarl, he knew that look; he’d seen it on countless COs. It never meant anything good.

If the man noticed his tension, he made no sign of it, smiling happily and taking a step forward, his hand outstretched. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Steve Rogers, I-”

“I know who you are,” Bucky interrupted, taking the proffered hand and shaking it once before he dropped it. “Can I help you with something, Congressman?”

Congressman Roger’s smile flickered for a moment, but didn’t quite go out. “Steve, please,” he said. “I saw your flier.” He held it up, like Bucky might not know what he meant; like he hadn’t been the one to write it and get it printed in the first place.

He nodded but didn’t say anything, content to let _Steve_ get to a point before he responded.

“It would be such a shame if a business like this, something that’s been part of the community for over fifty years disappeared.” He was so _earnest,_ Bucky found himself wondering if he practiced it in the mirror every morning. “I’d like to help,” he finished, slowly when Bucky continued not to say anything at all, uncertainty beginning to creep into his face.

Bucky suppressed a sigh. The last thing he needed was a freshly elected official with everything to prove getting involved in his campaign to save _Moby Dickens_. He didn’t want to get used for some cheap publicity, a picture opportunity, but no actual help. His days of being used for politics that he couldn’t care less about where firmly behind him. It had been why he’d been planning to leave the army even before… He cut the thought off abruptly when he realised that Steve was still looking at him expectantly.

“Yeah?” he said, letting his disbelief show in his voice.

“Yes,” Steve said, his posture changing, his shoulders squaring like he was preparing to stand to attention.

Bucky watched him carefully. “Look,” he said, “I appreciate the thought, but I don’t think there’s much you can really do, this is really just a local fundraising campaign.”

“I know,” Steve said, “I read your flier. You’re looking to get some funding to fight the planning permission for a new Shield megastore that’s opening over the road.”

“Right,” Bucky said.

“You don’t think a congressman could help with that?” Steve was smiling at him, looking amused but perplexed. It was probably the first time someone hadn’t just agreed with him his whole life, Bucky thought, who’d wanna say no to _that_ face after all?

Only a miserable idiot that didn’t know how to accept help even when it was offered to him. He smiled grimly to himself. “Thanks, but I really don’t want that sort of attention.”

It was true, at least, the last thing he wanted was this turning into a national debate on the evils of big corporates. It would just get Sarah and Joseph riled up, give them more false hope that something might actually change. He couldn’t bare to watch that only for it all to fall apart anyway.

Steve watched him silently for a moment. “It doesn’t need to be…” He paused and sighed. “I don’t have to get involved officially.”

Bucky started at the offer, surprised both that Steve had understood what he was getting at but also that it hadn’t put him off. “What’s that mean?”

“I could ask around,” he said. “I know people now. I could find out what’s happening, if there’s any objections or concerns that might help you.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t like bullies,” he said, voice sombre and so sincere that Bucky actually felt a little embarrassed for him. “I don’t think it’s right that big business just gets to decide a bookstore that’s been here since before World War II should shut down so they can make an extra two percent profit.”

Bucky stared at him in utter disbelief. Surely this guy couldn’t be for real. Who spoke like that? What sort of moron even _thought_ like that past the age of 15?

The silence stretched on until the other man huffed out a laugh. “Okay,” he said, “how about because my mum loved to read and used to come here every payday?” he said.

“That true?” Bucky asked.

“It is,” he said. “But both reasons are true.”

The thing was Bucky believed him, which probably made him as stupid as Steve. It wasn’t just that he desperately needed the help. It wasn’t even that Steve was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in real life. There was just something in his gut telling him that he was for real, that he really did want to help. He let out a breath. It was a mistake. He knew that, but he hadn’t got to where he was by making sensible decisions. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Thank you. I guess I could use the help.”

Steve’s whole face broke out into a huge grin. “Great,” he said, like it was Bucky that was doing him a favour and not the other way around. “Okay, I’ll stop by later this week, then. Let me see what I can find out in the meantime.”

“Sure,” Bucky said, the thought occurring to him that he was probably never going to see this man again. A momentary twinge of conscience didn’t usually translate into real action. But he found himself wanting to play along with the lie for a little longer. It was nice, to think that he might have someone on his side for once. “See you later in the week.”

“See you then,” Steve said, nodding and glancing down at the leaflet in his hand before carefully folding it up and tucking it into his back pocket.

He turned on his heel and was reaching for the door again when Bucky spoke.

“I didn’t vote for you,” he said. The words punched themselves out of his chest. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t just accept the offer of help graciously. That’s what Grant would have done. He’d have probably ushered him into the backroom and talked his ear off for hours about why he ought to help. Would have made sure he left with a damn to-do list, probably. But Grant wasn’t there. Bucky was and Bucky didn’t have that sort of worldview. Maybe it’d got blown off along with his left arm. So, he couldn’t help but push at the boundaries. There really was something so _unlikely_ about the whole set up, there _had_ to be a catch. It was just a matter of finding it.

Steve grinned and it took Bucky a moment for him to realise what was wrong with it; it was the first time the pull of his mouth was reflected in his eyes. “That’s alright,” he said, “you’re still my constituent.” He paused, grinning like Bucky had made a really funny joke, rather than just being an asshole. “You have a good night, sir.”

 _Sir._ God damn.

Bucky blinked at the closed door for a long moment before shaking off his utter confusion and striding over and locking it. He flipped the ‘closed’ sign and shook his head.

He’d never see that guy again. He’d bet his remaining arm on that.

***

Luckily for Bucky, he wasn’t actually a betting man, so he wasn’t forced to give up his one working hand when Steve Rogers barrelled through the door exactly one minute to closing nearly a week later. Bucky froze from where he’d been mid-way to the door, ready to lock up.

Steve paused, his hand still outstretched from shutting the door behind him. He smiled. “Hi,” he said, looking pleased, almost as though he hadn’t expected Bucky to be in his own shop on a weekday at 7pm.  

“Hi.” Bucky nodded, keeping his face carefully blank.

Steve was wearing jeans and a hoodie again, like he was trying to be inconspicuous. It might have worked but for the fact that he was still clearly gorgeous and stacked from head to his probably perfect toes. There was no way he was walking down any street without people noticing. Bucky wondered if it was possible Steve didn’t realise this. Then he wondered _how_ he didn’t realise it. It was vaguely annoying for reasons he couldn’t really articulate, even to himself, but he suspected it might be because Bucky was somehow finding himself _charmed_ by the idea. It was ridiculous. _He_ was ridiculous. But that wasn’t exactly new, he ought he be used to it by now.

Bucky was so caught up in his own thoughts it took him a moment to realise that Steve was still staring at him without speaking, so he added, “You came back,” and then felt like a complete moron.

But Steve just grinned at him. “I came back,” he agreed. “I did some asking around, like I said.”

“Great,” Bucky said. “Let me just-” he stepped forward, reaching out so he could flip the sign to stop anyone else coming in. But Steve didn’t move. Bucky looked at him, noticing, now they were much closer, how long his eyelashes were. It was a weird thing to notice and he mentally shook himself. “I just need to lock up,” he said, his voice came out lower than he’d have liked. But, he wasn’t made of stone and Steve was… well, there was a reason magazines and newspapers were falling all over themselves to put him on every cover they could, and it had been a long time since Bucky had had cause to even _notice_ something like some dude’s eyelashes. The thought was pathetic enough to jolt him into pulling back to a respectable distance.

Steve startled and then… _blushed._ Bucky had to bite down on the smile that wanted to erupt over his face. “Sorry,” he said, shuffling out of the way, and rubbing the back of his neck. “I ah…” he gestured. “I didn’t realise it was so late.”

Bucky shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said, turning the lock and glancing over at him. “Do you want a drink of something?”

“Oh,” Steve seemed taken aback by the offer, probably because of Bucky’s barley concealed hostility the first time they’d met. “Thanks, but I can’t stay.”

It wasn’t exactly a rejection, but Bucky felt embarrassed all the same. He nodded, a stiff jerk of his head. “So, you asked around?”

Steve was giving him a strange look, like he was trying to work him out. It was oddly assessing, and Bucky ducked his head, letting his hair fall in front of his face. “Erm,” Steve said, as though pulling himself back on track. “Yeah, I didn’t find out much, actually.”

“You come back to tell me that?” The question came out harsher than he meant, but the whole conversation was making his head start to hurt. Why was Steve even there?

If the tone or bluntness of the question bothered Steve, he made no sign of it. He just smiled thinly. “I meant,” he said softly, “that I couldn’t find out much at all, which is weird.”

Bucky frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

Steve shrugged. “Nothing, probably, but there’s less paperwork than you might expect. I had some of my… colleagues look into it, and all the legal stuff’s there. But, there’s just a lot less of it than you might expect. Like the whole thing is sailing right through without any objections.”

“I take it that’s not usual?”

“In New York?” Steve smiled at him. “It’s unheard of. I’m going to keep looking into it, but I just wanted to let you know that it’s taking longer than I thought.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, and then because he wasn’t a _complete_ asshole, added, “thank you.”

Steve smiled, lighting up his whole face. “You’re welcome, err...” He paused before rubbing the back of his neck again. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name last time.”

“It’s James,” he said, smiling almost despite himself, “but, ah, most people call me Bucky.”

Steve nodded, a grin tugging at his lips. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bucky.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, feeling self-conscious at the way Steve was smiling at him, for all the world like he genuinely _was_ pleased to meet him.

Steve’s eyes flicked to the clock over the till, and his face drew into a frown. “I better get going, but I’ll be back as soon as I find something worth sharing.”

He was gone before Bucky had a chance to do more than nod. After the door was closed again, it took him a moment to shake off the feeling of disappointment at the shortness of the visit.

“Honestly, Barnes,” he muttered, grimacing at himself, “one set of baby blues and you’re a fucking mess. Get a grip.”

***

He didn’t manage to get much of a grip over the next week. He found himself watching the clock as it got closer to closing, half expecting Steve to appear. He was annoyed at himself for the habit, but didn’t seem able to break it. During the days, at least, he was able to mostly ignore the whole thing. He went about his routine as normal; running the shop, dropping by Sarah and Joseph’s house to bring them food and updates, he met with Wanda and T’Challa a couple of times a week to discuss options for contesting the new Shield store. It was a routine. He liked routines. They kept him focused. Kept him from thinking too much (brooding as Wanda insisted on calling it).

But it didn’t stop him looking for Steve’s hulking frame entering the shop. He did see him plenty on the news; Steve never seemed to be off the news, always having something to say about the latest scandal in Government. Bucky didn’t bother to follow that particular soap opera. But it added a whole level of surrealism to the encounters he’d had with him. He was almost starting to question if he’d imagined them, when Steve appeared just before seven o’clock nearly a week later.

Bucky managed to not freeze in surprise this time, instead forcing a neutral smile onto his face. “Hi,” he said.

Steve’s smile was a blinding as ever. “Hi Bucky,” he said, as though delighted to be able to use his name this time.

There was their customary awkward pause where Steve seemed content to just look at Bucky rather than say anything until Bucky broke as asked, “You got news?”

“I do,” Steve said, then seemed to steel himself. “But, I’ll take that drink first, if you don’t mind.”

Bucky tried not to let the surprise show on his face. It was probably some weird form of politeness for not accepting a drink the last time around, but he supposed that was okay. A lot of people didn’t even bother with that.  “Sure,” he said, smiling, “what do you want?”

“Whatever you’ve got it fine,” Steve said, his shoulders relaxing very slightly, as though relieved Bucky had agreed.

Bucky nodded, ignoring the strangeness of that thought, and headed around the till and into the back room. “What you find?” he called as he tugged open the fridge and pulled out a couple of beers. There was silence until Bucky was back in the shop. “Steve?”

“Huh?” Steve asked, startled from where he’d been looking intently at the pinboard Bucky had put up in corner of the store. “These all taken here?” he asked, nodding at the photos.  

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “This place’s been owned by the same family since it opened.”

Steve smiled. “It’s a real slice of history.”

It should be corny. Hell, it _was_ corny, but something about the way Steve said it, like he was genuinely impressed, like he really believed that it mattered, made it seem less corny and more a statement of fact. “I guess so,” Bucky said. “Shame I’m going to be the one that brings it all to an end.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Steve said, all earnest seriousness. “And even if it does, it wouldn’t be your fault. You’re trying your best to stop it. You’ve organised a whole campaign, got backing from the local paper, a petition with over two-thousand signatures and fliers over half the city.”

“Geez,” Bucky said, embarrassed, although not sure why. “You did your homework.”

“Of course,” Steve said.

There was a pause where they just looked at each other before Bucky asked, “So? What else did you find?”

Steve blinked hard at him, like the question surprised him. “Well, it looks like the permissions are being pushed pretty hard.”

Bucky nodded, and placed one of the bottles down on the counter so he could brace the other in the crook of his left arm and pull the cap off with his right hand. “Isn’t that what you’d expect?”

“Thanks.” He took the offered beer and took a sip. “I don’t know,” he said. “But, the clerk seemed a bit surprised at the number of references and people poking around to see what’s happening.”

“That’s big business, I guess,” Bucky said. “They’ve got a lot of good friends.”

“Hmmm,” Steve said, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Only, I looked into it, and you know Shield’s owned by a holding company?”

Bucky shook his head. Truth be told, he barely knew what that even _meant_ but Steve was talking again so it probably didn’t matter.

“It’s owned by a company called Hydra.” He paused and when Bucky didn’t react continued right on talking. “It’s a massive multi-national, reported profits in the billions last year. Bigger than Stark Industries.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” Bucky said, not sure where he was going with this.

“No,” Steve agreed. “They’re keen that people haven’t, I think. They prefer to pull the strings. They buy up companies, asset strip them and then sell them on, mostly.”

“So?” Bucky asked, his stomach sinking with every word out of Steve’s mouth. “You’re saying this whole thing is pointless.”

Steve’s face morphed into such a mask of surprises outrage that Bucky almost laughed. “No!” he said. “If anything, it means we have to do _more._ No way does a company like Hydra get to shutdown an institution like _Moby Dickens_.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, trying not let his amusement come across like he was laughing _at_ Steve. “What we gonna do about it, then?”

Steve stayed long enough to drink his beer and ask some more questions about what Bucky had managed so far with the campaign (not a lot). Then he was apologetically backing out the door and promising to come back when he had more information. Bucky watched him go with a smile that was surprisingly genuine.

***

After that Bucky was less sure that Steve wasn’t ever going to turn up again, which meant that when he breezed into the store a couple of days later Bucky just waved a greeting and went to fetch him a beer. Steve didn’t have much more to say. Apparently, he just wanted to check in about the planning meetings that Shield had held with the local residents. Bucky had attended, asked a couple of pointed questions about the impact on local businesses that were neatly deflected before the whole thing was wrapped up. Steve nodded earnestly, for all the world looking like he cared about what Bucky was saying.

The next time he dropped in, he wasn’t in his customary jeans and a hoodie. Instead, he was wearing a full suit, tie neatly knotted at his throat and his white shirt crisp. It took Bucky a moment to peel his eyes away from the way his jacket framed his shoulders and then nipped in neatly at his waist. Steve didn’t have time to accept a drink that time, he was dashing to a meeting, he just wanted to ask Bucky about whether Sarah and Joseph owned the building (they didn’t but the rent was still reasonable because they knew the family that did).

The time after that, it was lunchtime and not nearly closing, and Steve brought sandwiches. Bucky tried to pretend that it was a perfectly normal thing that happened to him all the time; famous congressmen turning up and casually bringing him lunch. He never found out exactly why Steve had turned up that time, they talked about nothing in particular, the neighbourhood mostly, while they ate. Then they were interrupted by a stream of customers and Steve slipped out of the shop before anyone clocked who he was. But, it had been nice, easy in a way that Bucky wasn’t used to with people he wasn’t close to. He supposed that was just one of the necessary skills of being a politician; getting along with random people was practically in the job description.

The time after that, it was near closing again and Steve had brought his own beer. He was gesturing with it as he spoke and Bucky wasn’t actually taking in much of what he was saying at all.

A feeling of unease had started to creep in, the inevitable questions that Bucky couldn’t tune out. He wasn’t sure if he’d always been so untrusting, but it was a fact of life now. If he were honest, there had been a nagging feeling ever since Steve started turning up at the shop, something Bucky couldn’t put his finger on, but a feeling of _not rightness_ about the whole situation. Wanda kept telling him not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but that wasn’t Bucky’s nature. He didn’t like not knowing all the angles. That was how you ended up in hospital with no left arm and your friends dead. Besides, he knew there was something going on other than Steve’s apparent endless determination to champion every lost cause in the country. He wasn’t an idiot. Steve was incredibly busy. He seemed to be dashing between DC and New York all the time, and Bucky couldn’t work out why. Surely no one could care about a random shop _that_ much.

“I’m sorry,” he cut in, when Steve continued to talk, unable to keep it in any more. “Don’t you have, like, a staff that ought to be handling all this? Don’t you have…” He paused, realising that he actually had no idea what congressmen were meant to do all day, “meetings?” he finished lamely. “I mean, things that are more important that this? Than being here, _in person_ , all the time?”

Steve actually looked embarrassed for a moment, his cheeks flushing (annoyingly prettily), before he schooled his face into a sombre expression. “I… do,” he said, still seeming vaguely embarrassed. “I just… I thought… I wanted to relay this in person.”

Bucky blinked at him, totally nonplussed. “You canvassing for my vote or something?”

Steve laughed, a look a surprised pleasure on his face. “Sure, Bucky,” he said. “I’m here looking for your vote in the next election. Can I count on you?”

There was that easy charm again, practiced and assured of its impact. He’d seen less of it since Steve’s first visit and Bucky found it hard to square it with the man that sometimes tripped over his own feet and blushed so easy. It was like they were two different people: Congressman Rogers and Steve Rogers. Bucky knew a thing or two about that, though, so he supposed he couldn’t fault the guy for having a persona. But, that didn’t mean two couldn’t play at that game. If Steve was going to turn on the charm, try to fish for a reaction or deflect, Bucky would do the same.

He was rusty when it came to flirting. It seemed like years sometimes since he’d been remotely interested in dredging up the interest to bother. But he remembered the moves, remembered that he used to love it, had liked to turn on the charm with a girl just to see her blush, even if he never had any intention of following through. He’d never really had the cause to flirt with men, but it came easy now, as though from nowhere. He leant forward, cocked an eyebrow. “I ain’t that easy, Rogers,” he said, pitching his voice low. “You save my shop for me, and I’ll think about voting for you.”

Steve’s smile could have blinded a him. “Can’t say fairer than that, Buck,” he said, the nickname coming as easy as if he’d been saying it for years. “I’ll do my very best for you.”

The fact that Steve wasn’t put off by the flirting, if anything seeming to relish it, gave Bucky pause for a moment. But, then there was a fine line between banter and flirting, wasn’t there? And it wasn’t like Bucky was practiced enough these days to be sure which side of the line he was on. It was nice, though, to flex those sort of muscles. Didn’t hurt that it was on one of the most beautiful people he’d ever met in real life. It was probably for the best it was also someone that he knew he had no chance with. No real risks. Only upside. Perhaps he should just keep up the banter/flirting. Maybe it would help him find a real date.

 

**TBC**


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky get to know each other and start looking more closely about what's happening with Hydra.

When Steve swept into the shop next it was a little after seven. Bucky had been hoping he might appear and so hadn’t locked up yet. He’d been leaving it later and later before going over to the door and closing up. He felt a little more pathetic every time he did it, but hope was a bitch like that. He looked up from where he was counting out the float for the till but his smile froze when he saw Steve. He looked rumpled, his hair was sticking up at slightly at odd angles, like he’d been running his hand through it over and over.  

“I think,” Steve started before Bucky even opened his mouth, “that I have something.” He paused, turning and locking the door and flipping the sign over. He turned back around and paused for a moment. “We’re alone?”

Bucky frowned. Steve had never asked that before, always taking it for granted that Bucky would tell him otherwise. “Yeah,” he started, trepidation flooding his stomach. “Steve, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” he said, taking a step into the shop. “But, there’s something not right about this. I had a visitor today.”

“From who?” 

“Another congressman,” he said. “Name of Rumlow.” 

Bucky shrugged. He didn’t really bother to keep up with politics, although the name did ring a bell. He thought he could even picture a face, young, broad shoulders. The papers liked to compare him and Steve.

“What he want?”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know,” he said. “He was just asking what I was up to. Being real friendly.”

“That cause for concern?”

“In the US government?” Steve asked with a rueful grin that made Bucky’s stomach do an embarrassing little flip. “I think he heard that I was poking around Hydra business. Not related to this,” he added. “But just in general. He was talking about the good work I could be doing around health care. That taking on corporates was not a way to win friends.”

“Because health care in this country is so nonpolorising?”

Steve laughed, a small soft sound, not entirely happy.

“So you think he was warning you off?” Bucky continued.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Maybe. I don’t know. It was strange and then not half an hour later I got invited to join a subcommittee looking at overhauling urban education.” 

“Isn’t that like one of the things you campaigned on?” Bucky asked.

“Right,” Steve said, looking pleased for a moment. “But, you would not _believe_ how stonewalled I was when I started talking about it right after election. Not one person wanted to take my meetings.”  

“And then you start asking about Hydra and suddenly-” He gestured.

“Yeah, suddenly people are tripping all over themselves to talk to me about everything I campaigned on, as long as it’s it ot _that_.”

“What did you say about joining the committee?” Bucky asked, searching Steve’s face.

He looked up sharply, meeting Bucky’s eye and frowning. “That I’d think about it.”

“You should take it,” Bucky said firmly. 

“Bucky,” Steve said slowly. “It’s a distraction, they want-”

“I know that,” he snapped and then let out a slow breath. “It’s the carrot, Steve. Maybe you’d be better off taking it before they get around to the other thing.”

Steve looked so affronted that Bucky nearly took a step back. “Bucky, there’s something going here,” he said. “If they care enough to try and lure me off it with a slot on a subcommittee that will talk and talk never actually _do_ anything…” He grimaced. “This is important.”  

Bucky sighed. “If you’re right,” he said. “What you’re implying, it’s-”

“I’m not implying anything,” Steve cut in. “Not yet. This is shifty. Maybe they called in a favour. Maybe it’s totally unrelated, I’m not saying anything illegal’s happening. Maybe nothing even morally dubious. But, if it is-” 

“If it is,” Bucky cut in, “you should leave it. You didn’t sign up to lose your career over a stupid shop.”

“That’s not-” Steve started, looking intently at Bucky. “That’s not what it would be. If there _is_ something there, then I have a duty to find out what. I’m not going to run away scared from it. I took an oath.”  

Bucky shook his head. “You sure about that?”

Steve looked him square in the eye, jaw tight and eyes blazing in a way Bucky had never seen them before. “Dead sure.”

“Good word choice,” he huffed, quirking his lips. He took a slow breath before letting it out slowly. He knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere by continuing the fight. Steve was just going to dig his heels in harder than ever. Better to ease off, come back to it later once he’d cooled off. “You staying for a drink or what?”

Steve slowly deflated. “Yeah, yeah okay. Thanks.”

Two beers and an hour of carefully avoiding the topic later Bucky couldn’t keep it in anymore. “Steve, if you’re going to keep going after this,” he said, leaning forward, “you got to promise to be sensible about it, don’t take a load of risks you don’t know if you can handle.”

Steve’s mouth turned up at the corners. “Man,” he said slowly, “you sure don’t know me too well.”

Bucky sighed. He recognised that look. He’d seen it on another face enough times. He shook his head. “I think I do, actually,” he said, “that’s the problem.” 

Steve just beamed at him, like Bucky had said something amazing.

 

***

He didn’t get much of a chance to worry about Steve getting into trouble as they abruptly hit a brick wall with finding information a few weeks later.

Steve sighed and shuffled the papers in his hand for the fifth time in that last minute.

“Nothing there?” Bucky asked, knowing the answer but wanting to break the silence.

Steve had taken to bringing any new information straight over to _Moby Dickens_ to go over it with Bucky. It was nice, having someone else there with him. Steve was a mostly silent presence, but calming with it. Bucky hadn’t realised that he missed having company until the need was met. For all that he didn’t speak all that much, Bucky had never met someone with such a solid presence. It was probably the first time Bucky had actually looked forward to not being alone. _Progress_ , he thought with a twist of his lips. His therapist would be pleased.

“Nothing that we can use,” Steve agreed. He grimaced and threw them carelessly onto the table. “I think I might ask Stark about it.”

“Stark?” Bucky asked, surprised, “like, _Tony Stark?_ Do you know him?” He probably shouldn’t be so surprised, Steve probably knew loads of famous people. But sometimes the reminder that Steve was from an entirely different world from Bucky still blindsided him. When they were together it was easy to forget they weren’t just two guys hanging out. Then Steve would say something and it would remind Bucky all over again why he absolutely couldn’t act on the near constant desire to just lean over and kiss Steve on his stupidly soft looking lips. They weren’t just two guys. They weren’t in the same league; Bucky was pretty sure they weren’t even playing the same game.

Steve grimaced. “I knew his father,” he clarified. “A very little, before he died. But, I think it’ll be enough to get me a meeting.”

“You think one multi-billionaire is going to care about what some other multi-billionaire is doing?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, slowly, like he was working through the logic as he spoke. “But Tony’s been talking a good game, lately. He’s revising the way Stark Industries operates, lots of positives across the board in terms of governance and transparency.” He sighed. “At the very least, I’m sure he’d be interested in stopping a rival getting another foothold in his neighbourhood.”

Bucky’s mouth quirked at the corner.  “You think it’s worth all that effort?” He wished he could just stop trying to test the boundaries of Steve’s offered help. But the words just kept slipping out, even weeks into Steve turning up and following through. His therapist had asled why he was always waiting for people to leave. He hadn’t had an answer for her, but he knew people always did eventually. He knew for  _sure_ Steve would at some point, when he realised what Bucky really was, if not before. There was no point in fighting it, better to speed the process up if anything. 

Steve looked up him, silent for a long moment, his lips drawn into a thin line. Bucky tried not to fidget under the scrutiny.

“Can I ask you something?” Steve asked eventually, frowning slightly, a searching look in his eyes.

Bucky shrugged a shoulder, hoping his discomfort did show. He didn’t like the sudden change in topic or Steve’s tone. Maybe this would be the moment after all. “You can _ask_ ,” he said and looked away, but he could still see the way Steve’s mouth quirked.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “Forgive me, but you don’t seem like the bookstore running kind of guy.”

He wanted to be offended. He knew he could play the question off that way, throw up some anger to block the probe into his personal life. The instinct was so ingrained he was reaching for the words, a scowl already on his face, before he realised abruptly that he didn’t actually _want_ to deflect the question. At least not entirely. He paused for a long moment, but Steve didn’t look away, didn’t shift uncomfortably at the lack of response. He just watched him patiently, like they had all the time in the world.

In the end Bucky shrugged, as much to throw off the irritable feeling clawing his chest as anything. “I owe a debt,” he settled on. His voice came out all pinched and raw. He looked down hard at where his hand was clenched in his lap tightly.

Steve’s frown deepened. “You served?”

The question was inevitable. If he were honest, he was surprised that it had taken him this long to ask. His prosthetic usually meant people asked almost immediately. But it still made him hunch before forcing himself to nod once.

Steve mirrored the motion. “That where you racked up this debt?”

Bucky let out a long breath and forced himself to relax his shoulders. “Yeah,” he agreed slowly. He swallowed thickly. “It was…” His voice ran out just as Steve spoke.

“You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry, I was just curious.” There was a faint blush staining Steve’s cheeks, like he was genuinely embarrassed for asking an insensitive question.

Bucky shook his head. “It’s fine.” The lie was clear, but he couldn’t seem to stop talking once he’d started. “It was… I just.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to ground himself before speaking again. “I served with this guy. He was… I dunno. He was a little punk, really. Scrawny, but never seemed to notice he was a head shorter than everyone else, you know? Always running his mouth and getting into more trouble than he could handle. But he was…” His throat closed and stopped the sentence before he even realised that he didn’t know how to finish it anyway.

He had always hated talking about it. All through the therapy he was forced into once he was home, it had never got easier to talk about it.

“Anyway,” he shrugged again, “this is his folks’ place. He used to talk about coming back here, finishing his art degree – he’d signed up right after 9/11, said he couldn’t stand around while other people put themselves on the line to protect the country.” He smiled grimly, turned to Steve only to find he couldn’t hold the eye contact and flicked his eyes away again to look at the stack of books Steve had interrupted him putting away. “Like I say, he was a punk. Anyway, he never made it home. He… saved my life like the dumbass that he was. He saved my ass more than once, actually, and… the last time I lost an arm and he-” He swallowed through the tightness in his throat. He blinked hard a few times and there was no way he was telling the rest of the story. Better to skip to the end. Predictable as it was. “His folks ain’t so mobile these days, so I said I’d look after this place for them.” _For him_ he didn’t say, but he might as well have, the words hung between them anyway.

There was a long silence after he’d stopped talking. He was absurdly pleased that Steve didn’t rush to fill it with platitudes like most people did.

“Is that his painting?” Steve’s voice was soft but not gentle, not careful, like he was scared of breaking him if he spoke too loud. That was another thing people tended to do once Bucky said anything about his time in the army. They all seemed to suddenly think he was broken, like he might suddenly collapse entirely if they did the slightest thing, put the wrong inflection in their words. He hated it. It was a big reason he never mentioned it at all.

Bucky looked over to the watercolour of Brooklyn before dropping his eyes down to his hand. “Yep.”

“He was talented.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, he really was.”

Steve nodded solemnly. “You blame yourself.” It wasn’t a question and so Bucky didn’t answer it. Steve nodded like he had. “I lost…” he started and then stopped. “I understand that feeling.”

“I know,” Bucky said. He’d heard the story. Everyone had; it had all come out in the campaign. Steve had signed up to the army with his childhood best friend. They’d served in the same unit until a mission that had killed the best friend and had Steve discharged with his own injuries. At the time Bucky had assumed that Steve had leaked it himself to get sympathy from the voters, despite his protests to the contrary. But, now, seeing the look on his face he doubted it. He recognised that almost vacant look in Steve’s eyes. It wasn’t really such an unusual story. A lot of vets Bucky had met had similar ones. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Steve said softly. “Me too.”

There was a beat and then Steve was on his feet. Bucky startled at the sudden movement and then climbed to his feet too.

“Thank you for the coffee,” Steve said, his voice tight. “I appreciate your time, but I better be heading home.”

He looked spooked, like something he’d been running from had suddenly appeared abruptly in the room with them. Bucky’s hand reached out and touched his arm before he’d even given it permission to do it. Steve looked down at it. They hadn’t touched since their perfunctory handshake when they first met. It felt huge, somehow, to feel the solid warmth of him under his hand. He knew that before he’d have had some smart comment, a joke ready that would defuse the tension that was suddenly thick between them. But nothing came to him; just another thing he’d left behind in the desert.

“You paying off a debt too?” he asked, his voice raw like they’d been shouting and not barely talking above a whisper.

Steve’s eyebrows drew together like he was in pain and it made something jagged clench in Bucky’s chest. “He-” Steve started and swallowed. “He was real good with people,” he said. “He knew everyone, was always looking out for the whole unit. He wanted-” Bucky felt Steve’s bicep flex as he clenched his fists. “He wanted to clean up the city, had all these ideas about ending corruption and helping small businesses. I didn’t ever want… I’m not even any good at this, really, but I thought… I guess it was the least I could do.”

Bucky smiled, or he tried to, but he suspected it looked more like a grimace. “You seem pretty good at it to me. People can’t seem to get enough of Captain Rogers. You’re like America’s poster boy.”

Steve’s smile was a small, almost bitter, thing. “I don’t know about that. Have you seen me try and do press?”

Bucky had and mostly Steve radiated a sort of innocent charm that was so uncommon that he’d always assumed it was affected until he’d actually met him. Even when he put his foot in it or got flustered at a question about his personal life, it was more charming than off-putting. “Yeah,” Bucky said, “seems like people really dig picking up what you’re putting down.”

Steve smiled, clearly bashful and perhaps a little pleased under it. “Yeah, that’s because they don’t know me. I’m not…” He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to make a difference.”

“You are,” Bucky said. “You’ve already made a difference to this place, just by asking questions.”

Steve shook his head. “I’m in over my head.”

Bucky frowned at him. “Ain’t we all?”

An almost-laugh punched its way out of Steve’s chest, surprising both of them and breaking the tension. “You think?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said softly. “Or maybe that’s just me, I ain’t exactly an expert on people these days.”

“Well,” Steve said, his smile was smaller, but more genuine now, “I’m glad to hear that it’s not just me at least.”

They stared at each for a beat until Bucky realised that he was still clutching Steve’s arm and dropped his hand. Steve’s eyes tracked to the movement. It looked for a moment like he was going to say something else. Bucky held his ground, waiting. But then Steve took a step back. “Thank you,” he said again, this time more sincere and less panicked.

“You’re welcome, Rogers,” Bucky said with a smile of his own. “Anytime.”

“I mean…” Steve started, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in the way he did when he was nervous. “Thank you for telling me about your friend as well as making me feel less like I’m…” He gestured vaguely but Bucky knew what he meant.

“You’re not alone,” he said. “Plenty of misery to go around in this city.”

Steve huffed something that was almost a laugh. “I’ll see you soon, Bucky,” he said after a moment, eyes intent and focused on Bucky like he was expecting some argument or refusal.

Bucky just forced a neutral smile onto his face. “See you, Steve.”

He watched him as pulled on his coat and walked out the door, his shoulders hunched again, like he was already bracing against the cold. There was a long, strange moment where he wanted to follow him out, call after him, ask him to stay for another beer. It was stupid. Steve probably had hundreds of other places to be; all of which would be more inviting than a pokey bookstore run by a miserable cripple. Besides, Bucky had plenty he ought to have already done that day. He took a deep breath and forced himself over to the pile of books by the till.

He paused, looking at Grant’s painting for a long moment. He hadn’t really looked at it for ages, not since he’d hung it. He hadn’t realised that he’d been avoiding it until that moment. He shook his head.

“Man,” he said softly, looking at it. “I bet you’re laughing your ass right now, you little shit.”

 

***

 

Bucky tried to keep on ignoring the way his stomach fluttered when he thought about Steve. Tried to pretend that when he wasn’t actively concentrating on something Steve disn’t just appear unprompted in his thoughts.

It didn’t help.

It had been bad before they’d shared war stories, but it was terrible now. Now he knew that Steve understood what he’d been through. Or what it felt to lose someone, he very much doubted he knew how it felt to realise you’d been turned into something less than human. But it was more than most people understood. More than he deserved. That they shared more than just a history of serving in the US army meant more than Bucky wanted to admit. He felt connected to him on some fundamental level. 

Of course the fact that Steve was all tied up with the fate of the shop, his whole life, didn’t exactly help with not thinking about him. The shop was at least keeping a fairly steady trade, the threat of closure seemed to have inspired people to actually make orders. It helped keep his mind off Steve during the day.

But whenever it got close to closing Bucky started to get restless, his whole body going on alert in case Steve arrived. He knew it was more likely that he wouldn’t than would. But that didn’t stop his mind wandering and heart spiking at the sound of the bell. It was annoying.

“You could just make a move,” Wanda pointed out, while Bucky leant against her kitchen counter watching her bake. He was meant to be helping but was mostly complaining about the fact he couldn’t just put his thoughts of Steve out of his mind. “You’re not the first person to have a crush, Bucky, just ask him out.” 

Bucky stared at her. “It’s not that simple,” he said. “You know it’s not.”

She paused from kneading the dough for a moment to give me a look. “I know,” she said softly. “I know you haven’t dated much since…” 

“Ever,” Bucky supplied. “Not with anyone I actually liked.”

“Maybe you should. No time like the present. You can’t carry on with just second hand books, some old people and a couple of Ukrainian immigrants for company.” 

Bucky wanted to ask why and then he wanted to point out he did have other friends. Well. He had T’Challa. They were probably friends. Or something similar enough. There was his old unit, what was left of them, too. He didn’t say anything, though, because it wasn’t like she was wrong either. “I don’t think going from zero to dating a national celebrity and all American hero of the people is a good idea.”

“Hmmm,” she said. “He’s probably not good enough for you.” 

“You’re a sweet talker,” he said, unable to stop from grinning. “How come _you’re_ not dating?”

“I’m tragically in love with my gay best friend and unable to move on,” she said easily. 

“You’ve got to stop using that excuse when anyone asks you,” he said. “That was meant to be a one time ploy to stop that guy from sniffing around you.”

She grinned impishly at him. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll date when you do.” 

“Low blow,” he said. “That’s blackmail.”

“I think it’s just regular negotiation, but whatever it takes.” 

“Fine,” he shook his head. She was right. He knew she was. If this Steve situation had taught him anything it was that he _was_ a bit lonely and that, actually, having someone around was quite nice. He took a deep breath. “Fine. When this is over we’ll… do something about the dating situation. Go to a bar. That’s what non-tragic people do, right?”

“You’re asking me?” she asked. “I’m just a poor orphan from a war torn country.”

“Maybe we should find a normal friend and ask them,” he said, trying not to sound as uncertain as he felt. 

Wanda just looked at him for a moment. “Or Google?”

 

****

 

“I’m pretty sure Rumlow’s in with at least Shield,” Steve announced, barely bothering to close the door behind him.

Bucky froze from where he’d idly been looking up local bars he and Wanda could go to where there was a chance of both of them finding someone.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “He came by and mentioned the campaign to save _Moby Dickens_.”  

“What?” Bucky said. “How did he even know about that?” 

“I don’t know, and it wasn’t like he mentioned it by name either. Just referenced trying to stop progress to preserve things that had had their time.”

“What a dick,” Bucky said. 

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Steve said with that grin that suggested while he agreed he didn’t necessarily approve of the way Bucky had put it.

“Why do all the hot guys have to be total doches?” he said, with a roll of his eyes. It never stopped being scary the first time Bucky let slip that he was gay to someone new. But from the first time he’d actually done it, he’d made a promise never to lie about it again. And so he’d taken the first opportunity he’d found to drop it into conversation with Steve, who had done nothing more than blink before continuing on like nothing had happened. But, he had noticed that Steve was more careful with genders of people’s partners and the way he talked about sexuality around him after that. It was subtle but made any lingering concern melt away about bringing it up again. He couldn’t help the little stab of disappointment that it hadn’t immediately lead to Steve asking him out, despite his constant self-reminders that it was for the best.

Steve smiled thinly at him. “Not sure he’d really be your type anyway,” he said with a shrug.

“What, hot with muscles for days? Seems exactly my type,” Bucky countered.

“I thought you said you’d never date a Republican,” Steve said, deadly serious. “He’s not exactly on our team, here.” 

“I think that was actually you,” Bucky said. “But, I take the general point about not fraternising with the enemy. So, what now? If he’s onto you digging around, maybe you ought to lay off for a bit.”

“No,” Steve said immediately. “If they’re spooked that’s better, perhaps someone will slip up and I’ll get a better idea of what’s going on.”

“That’s a fucking stupid way of going about it,” he said, unable to keep the deep flush of annoyance out of his voice. “Why not dress up in a giant bullseye and run around New York instead?” 

Steve just smiled at him. Bucky hated the way it made his chest go all strange. He tried to scowl, but that just seemed to encourage him.

“I’d rather they know,” Steve said. “Besides, that’s how I do things. If you’re looking for stealth, I do also have someone working that side of things too.” 

“Not like they can be _more_ obvious than you,” he said. “You always like being the distraction?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Sometimes that worked out and sometimes I got the job done before the actual strike team needed to.” 

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know how you’re still alive. It’s a miracle.”

“I had good people with me,” he said, going somber for a moment.

“Yeah, I know about that,” he said. His throat was suddenly tight and fuck him, how did Steve manage to make him feel so many things in so short a space of time? It was exhausting. “Drink?” he said, hoping to change the mood and topic.

“Sure,” he said. “You can help me figure out how to lure these people into making a mistake.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. “Whatever,” he said. “I guess I can try and turn it into a less stupid plan.”

He closed the tab with the bars on it before he turned to leave. It was pointless. There was no way anyone was going to be able to hold his attention while Steve was around. He’d just have to wait until this was all over, or until Steve got bored or scared off. It wasn’t like he had the time for anyone new anyway. One thing at a time. Save the shop and then he could try and sort out his tragic love life.

 

**TBC**


	3. Chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky invites Steve to a fundraiser for Moby Dickens and meets some surprising attendees.

Bucky wrestled with himself for a week before finally inviting Steve to the fundraiser. Sarah had been badgering him about it and even T’Challa had tactfully suggested that it would be the polite thing to do. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Steve there, it wasn’t even the thought that Steve might not want to go. It was just there was a limit to how much Bucky thought it was a good idea to let Steve into his life. Did he really want him meeting his friends? Sarah and Joseph? He was already getting in too deep and this felt dangerous.

On the other hand, T’Challa was right. Not inviting him was sort of a dick move.

“So, we’re having this _thing,_ ” he said slowly, as Steve sipped on a beer and frowned at some paperwork. Bucky suspected that it wasn’t even related to Shield, that Steve was just using the shop as an offshoot of his office, but couldn’t really find it in himself to care.

“A thing?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, a street party, sort of thing,” he said. “All the local businesses are getting together, like a fundraising thing for legal fees.”

“Oh?” Steve said, all big eyes and intent stare, “seems real nice.” He seemed almost wistful as he took another drink.

“Geez,” Bucky said, shaking his head, “you’re killing me here, I’m inviting you, you mook. Stop looking like a puppy in a shelter.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, a smile breaking out across his face like a damn sunrise. “You don’t think it’ll be a problem, draw too much attention?”

Bucky sighed. “I still think it’s a bad idea for people to have any idea that you’re looking into this officially. But, you live near here, right? It’s not weird for you to drop by a local event.”

Steve looked so pleased that Bucky felt awful for even considering not inviting him. “Okay, great. It’s this weekend, right?”

“You knew?” he started and then waved him off before he could answer. Of course he knew, there was a damn poster in the shop. “If you wanted to come, you could have just asked, you know.”

“Well, you didn’t want me too visible, I was trying to respect your wishes.”

“Jesus,” Bucky said.

“What?” Steve said.

“It’s just…” He couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “I just can’t believe you’re for real, but then the more time I spend with you, I’m starting to think you really are.”

“What’s that mean?” Steve asked, a small smile on his face, but it looked like he wasn’t sure if he ought to be pleased or offended.

“Nothing,” Bucky said. “You’re just like something outta a story. No one is that nice.”

Steve’s smile faltered. “I’m really not,” he said, serious now. “But, I also don’t want to overstep with you.”

Bucky frowned. “Well, I appreciate that, but you’re not.” He bit back a comment about perhaps _wanting_ a little more overstepping and decided a change of conversation would be a safer option. He climbed to his feet and plastered a smile over this face. “Another drink, Congressman?”

A few days later he was rehanging some bunting for the fifth time because Sarah kept changing her mind about where she wanted it when Steve entered the shop.

“Hey,” he grunted, around the pins clamped in his mouth.

“Hey,” Steve said, “need some help?”

“Nah, that’s-” he started and then realised that Steve wasn’t alone. He froze, watching the newcomer for a moment before forcing himself to continue hanging the bunting.

“Hi,” the man grinned. “Sam.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “I’ve seen you on the TV.”

Sam grinned like that was the best thing he’d heard all day. “And I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh?” Bucky started but Steve had already stepped forward.

“I was gonna show Sam around the shop before we stop by some of the other stalls. That okay?”

“Sure,” Bucky said, “just don’t steal anything when my back’s turned.”

“Like anything would get by you anyway,” Steve said, with a lift of his eyebrow.

“Hmm,” Bucky said, “I’m just a cripple currently being used for manual labour by an elderly couple. Not sure there’s much I could do to stop you from taking off with anything you fancied.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Steve said, his eyes crinkled with a smile. “I think you might be able to-”

“Tour!” Sam announced loudly and walked to the back of the shop forcing Steve to follow behind. Steve gave him an almost apologetic smile before trailing after him.

Bucky watched them go for a moment before turning back to the task at hand. He considered warning them about Sarah being back there, but decided against it. Steve had already met her a couple of times and had been subjected to the third degree about everything from his service record to whether he was eating his greens. He took it all in stride, and Bucky was mostly sure that he wasn’t going to be scared off by her bluntness, even if she was in a particularly intense mood today.

Bunting hung in a way that probably wouldn’t get him shouted at by any elderly women, he clambered down from the ladder. He thought for a moment about following after Steve and Sam, but decided against it. He’d recognised Sam immediately; he was Steve’s policy advisor, knew D.C. like the back of his hand and was also ex-air force. From the way Steve talked about him, he also sounded like he was probably Steve’s best friend and he wasn’t quite ready to brave that. He always felt enough like people were judging him when he met them, without meeting someone that definitely was.

Instead he walked right out of the shop, trusting that Sarah would deal with any customers, to stand on the sidewalk and take in the rest of the preparations. Wanda looked up and gave him a little wave from her stall and then immediately smacked a pastry out of her brother’s hand with a scowl. Bucky’s mouth quirked at the indignant squawk that followed. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to relax; it was too late to do anything but accept what the day brought. It felt like they’d been planning it for months; it was one of the first things they’d decided to do when they’d started the campaign. It was nice, actually, it had given all the local businesses a chance to get together and work on something. Maybe Bucky was getting sentimental in his old age, but it felt like they were starting to create a community. Just in time for it all to be broken up by a new megastore.

He looked around and tried to feel hopeful. There were already people milling around in the street, the few stalls selling cakes and pastries having lured some of the locals out. The sun was bright, not quite managing to warm the chill of fall, but it made walking around outside more appealing, hopefully it would help people work up both an appetite and a sense of civic duty. Bucky was hopeful they’d raise enough money that he’d be able to afford at least a little legal support. Nothing fancy, but at least someone to look over the paperwork and see if there were any loopholes and check the objections they were planning to raise.

He stayed outside for as long as it took Steve and Sam to finish up inside. He turned to smile at them as the backed out of the shop, followed by Sarah’s voice. Bucky couldn’t make out what she was saying but both men were nodding vigorously. A smart move, you always agreed with Sarah if you wanted to get away from the conversation in a timely manner.

“Enjoy the tour?” Bucky asked Sam with a grin.

“It’s quite the shop,” he said. “I’m glad Steve’s taken such an interest in it.” There was something a bit mocking about his tone and Bucky could feel his hackles rise.

“I get that it ain’t exactly solving health care, but the businesses here are real important to the community,” he said, his voice hard.

Sam just raised his eyebrows. “Don’t need to sell it to me, man, I already got the full speech from Steve, and then again from a tiny old lady.”

“Sam,” Steve said, almost reproachfully.

“Why don’t you two take a look around at the rest of the shops?” Bucky cut in, sensing a fight was looming that, judging by the look on Sam’s face, had been had many times before. Besides which, he knew he ought to get back inside, Sarah probably had a list of things she needed; she tended to use her increasingly rare visits to the shop to compile endless lists of ‘essential’ maintenance that Bucky needed to get on with immediately.

Steve shot him a grateful look.

“You can buy me breakfast,” Sam said, his tone teasing, “since you dragged me out of bed on a Sunday.”

Bucky tried not to watch as Steve walked away, but by the time he managed to tear his eyes away, Wanda had appeared at his side. She was looking up at him, her mouth pressed into a thin line, like she was trying her very best not to grin.

“Don’t,” Bucky said as firmly as he could. “Just don’t say anything.”

She did smile then, hands held out at her sides in a gesture of peace. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said softly, “I can make no such promises for Pietro.”

Bucky didn’t sigh, he held himself very still and didn’t react at all.

“He is very…” Wanda started after a moment of silence. But then seemed to run out of words and instead gestured vaguely to where Steve had already been waylaid on his mission to get breakfast and was talking very earnestly to Mrs McKernna about her bin collection. Sam had given up and was talking to T’Challa’s sister at a nearby stall.

“Ain’t he just,” Bucky said with a shake of his head. “I think he might actually be for real, too.”

“Hmmm.”

Bucky turned to her to find she had her mouth pressed into a thin line again. “I said-”

“I’m not saying anything,” she said. “But, it is nice to see you smile.”

Bucky wanted to say something flippant, but she was so sincere about it that he found he couldn’t. Instead he just grinned at her. “Yeah,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “I know I’m a misery most of the time, I’m sorry.”

“I wouldn’t say _that_ ,” she said, tucking her head into his shoulder.

“Only because your momma raised you right,” he said.

She grinned up at him so fondly that Bucky couldn’t resist wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a one-armed hug. “Come on,” he said, “come help me deal with Sarah. Maybe you can distract her with questions about your love life for once.”

Wanda laughed and let herself be tugged inside.

He barely had time to think for the rest of the morning. It was a whirlwind of people, not exactly customers, but plenty of people willing to say they _might_ be and that it would be such a shame if the shop _were_ to go out of business. Bucky nodded and tried to usher them towards the donation buckets. It was nearly lunchtime when the door went and Bucky stopped short at who entered. He looked younger, leaner and Bucky couldn’t help but notice, _hotter_ in real life. His dark hair fell across his forehead as he tapped his white cane along the floor of the shop.

“Hi,” Bucky said, dumbly.

The man looked up towards Bucky and took a step forward, his arm outstretched. “Hi, I’m Matt Murdock,” he said, a smile on his face.

Bucky blinked helplessly for a moment before reaching out to take the proffered hand. “Bucky Barnes,” he said.

“I was just talking to one of the other organisers,” he said, gesturing back out to the street. “They mentioned that you were the man to speak to about helping out with the campaign. I don’t know if you’ve heard of me but-”

“Yeah,” Bucky interrupted, unable to keep it in anymore, “I know who you are.”

Matt let out a huff of breath, almost like a laugh. “Right, well, I think it’s really great work you’ve been doing here. I’d love to offer any help I can,” he smiled brightly. “Free of charge, of course.”

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky asked.

“I’m told forcefully that jokes aren’t really my strong point,” Matt started, a little grin on his face, “and actually neither is property law, but my partner, Foggy, has some experience. I don’t know what we’ll be able to practically do, but we can at the least look over anything you want to submit, make sure it’s all filed correctly. I’d be happy to attend any meetings, too, make sure everything’s done above board.”

“I mean,” Bucky said, shaking his head, “that would be amazing. Thank you. This whole day is about raising funds for legal aid, so maybe we could pay something-”

“No,” Matt shook his head, “we need to do more pro bono work, and actually, maybe this will help us brush up some skills that can help get us paid work. You’d be doing us a favour, really. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of ways you can use the money raised for something else.”

Bucky was certain of that, even outside of this campaign, the neighbourhood wasn’t exactly short of things to invest in. “Thanks,” Bucky said again, not sure what else to say. It went against his natural inclination to go it alone, but he knew the others would never forgive him for passing up an opportunity like this.

“You’re welcome,” Matt said warmly. “I have to get going now, but if you could drop by the office later tonight, I’ll introduce you to Foggy and we’ll work out what we can do to support you. Say around seven?”

“Yeah,” he said, feeling dazed, “that would be great. Thanks.”

Matt nodded and then he was gone. Bucky was in no way surprised when the door opened again almost immediately to emit Wanda and Shuri, their eyes wide with excitement. They stared at him for a long moment before Shuri clearly grew bored of waiting for him to speak and rolled her eyes at him.

“So,” she said, “hot guys just turn up randomly and offer you help all the time? Think you can spare some of that sort of luck for me?”

Bucky glared at her. “You have heard of Matt Murdoch, right? It was bound to happen eventually, I should have thought about asking him for help to begin with. He’s basically St Jude.”

“St Jude?” she asked with a frown.

“Patron saint of lost causes,” Wanda supplied. “But she has a point, Bucky; it’s an embarrassment of riches you’ve got now.”

“Hmmm,” Bucky sighed, “lucky me. Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink.” Wanda gave him a look of utter disbelief. “What?” he huffed. “I work in a bookshop, I read.”

She just shook her head at him. “You’re an idiot, Barnes, and sometimes I can’t tell if you’re putting it on or not.”

He wanted to ask what _that_ meant, but she was already pulling Shuri out of the shop and he probably didn’t really want to know, anyway. They nearly bumped into Steve on their way out and as Shuri dodged around him, she turned back to stare meaningfully at Bucky and shake her head sadly as she backed away.

Bucky rolled his eyes and waved her off as Steve pushed through the door. “Bucky,” he said, “I just wanted to introduce you to-”

“Natasha?” Bucky said, getting a look at the women who had followed Steve in through the door. Pure surprise rippled through him – there were only so many surprising things that should be allowed to happen to one person in a single day, surely he was at his quota with Matt Murdock offering him free help. He didn’t need this.

She turned sharp eyes onto him, assessing, even as she raised an eyebrow and smirked at him. “James,” she said, with an incline of her head.

“You two know each other?” Steve said, seeming as surprised as Bucky.

“Oh, me and Barnes go way back,” she said easily.

“And you didn’t think to mention that?” Steve said, he was blushing faintly, and giving Natasha as close to a glare as Bucky had ever seen him give.

“Need to know, Rogers,” she said, totally unconcerned with Steve’s disapproval. She was a stronger person than Bucky, who would have crumpled under the sheer weight of disappointment Steve was sending her.

“And are you planning on letting me know _how_ you know each other?” he asked, when she continued to not be bothered in the least.

“We met with I was in Afghanistan,” Bucky cut in.

“I had a contract,” Natasha supplied. “James here shot me.”

“I saved your life,” Bucky corrected her.

“That too,” she said, her smile approaching fond.

“So,” Steve said, his tone not amused and not annoyed, but something a bit like both of them, “no introductions necessary.”

“Not this time,” Natasha said. “I just wanted to come say hi.” She did a little wave.

“Hi,” Bucky said slowly. “I didn’t know you knew Steve.”

“Wouldn’t be doing my job right if you did,” she said sweetly.

“Security? Really?” Bucky asked, a laugh wanting to work its way out of his chest, as realisation hit.

“Not exactly,” she said with a shrug. “But, you know me, always got lots fingers in various pies.”

“I remember,” he said. “Some of them got me shot at quite a lot.”

She waved him off. “Nothing you couldn’t handle, sergeant.” She grinned at him for a moment. “Well, I’d love to stay and…” she looked around, “help out, but I really should be going. Good to see you again James,” she turned to Steve, “See you later, Rogers.”

Then she was gone. Bucky blinked after her. “She really didn’t tell you that she knew me?” he asked into the silence.

Steve sighed. “No,” he said. “Natasha isn’t what you’d call the sharing type.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he said. “I only knew her for a couple of months. She’s smart. Very good at her job. How’d you meet her?”

“Just after I was discharged,” Steve said, “through one of my old COs. She’s been a good friend.”

Bucky found that hard to imagine, but Steve seemed to bring out all sorts of unexpected things in people, so maybe it wasn’t so farfetched.

“How have things been here?” Steve asked, turning to lean back against the counter with his arms folded. Bucky only stared at his arms for a moment before dragging his eyes away. 

“Great!” Bucky said, beaming at the memory. “Matt Murdock stopped by,” he paused, “you know, he’s-”

“Yeah,” Steve said easily. “I know him.”

“Of course you do, couple of do-gooders like you, there’s probably a club or something. Anyway, he offered his services, free of charge.”

“Really?” Steve asked, his face breaking out into a smile. “Buck, that’s great!”

“I know,” he said. “I’m going over to his office tonight, see what we can agree.”

Steve paused, his smile freezing just for a moment. “He just came in and just offered that, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, “seems I can’t stop people blowing into my shop trying to help. But, it’s not something I can really pass up. We could really, really use some legal help.”

“Of course,” Steve said. “It’ll be great. Are you going to talk to him about-”

“No,” Bucky shook his head. “Well, I’ll mention Hydra, that’s public knowledge, but I’m not going to say anything about what you’re working on.”

Steve nodded, seeming to relax slightly. “Okay, good. Well, I was going to see if you wanted to grab a drink later, but it seems you have plans.”

“Yeah, sorry, buddy,” Bucky said, feeling a pang of regret. “Maybe next time, yeah?”

“Sure, Bucky,” Steve smiled, even if Bucky thought (hoped?) there was a little regret in it too. “Next time.”

 

**TBC**


	4. Chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys continue to track down Hydra and have their first fight.

Bucky was so busy the next few weeks, he hardly had any time to reflect on the fact that Steve was at the shop more than ever. Matt had, true to his word, introduced him to his partner Foggy, who, while seemingly less than thrilled with ‘more’ pro bono work, had nonetheless thrown himself into the work with enthusiasm.

It meant Bucky seemed to be in an endless cycle of looking after the shop, running over to Matt and Foggy’s office to chat through any potential legal loopholes and then back to the shop to help Steve go through _more_ paperwork. By the time he was crawling into bed to sleep he was so tired he fell asleep immediately only to wake up and do it all over again.

They were, at least, making progress. There was nothing concrete, but Steve thought they’d soon have enough to get some interest in a legal case around potential corruption by Hydra. Natasha was helping pull everything together. It was exciting, Bucky felt like maybe they were making some real progress, not that he wanted to get himself too excited. There was still a chance it might all come to nothing. But it meant that he was pushing himself hard to keep going, even though he was exhausted.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked one night, a little frown between his eyes.

“Hmmm?” Bucky startled, looking up from the page he’d been staring blankly at for God knew how long.

“You seem pretty out of it,” Steve said. “Maybe we should call it a night.”

“No,” Bucky said, quickly. “I’m fine, just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

He didn’t want Steve to leave, he never really wanted him to, but certainly not because Bucky was being a sap about missing a few hours sleep. It wasn’t like Steve had it better, if anything, it was _worse._  His job was infinitely more draining than running a shop, and he was splitting his time between two cities. But he never complained, never seemed to even be tempted to shirk any responsibilities. Bucky wondered where he got the energy to care that much about everything. It must be exhausting.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked. “I don’t want to keep you awake.”

Bucky smiled. “It’s fine, I’m used to not sleeping much. I just…” He gestured. “I’m not used to paperwork. I might need a break.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Steve said. He leant back in his chair and threw the paper in his hands onto the table before rubbing his eyes. “There was a lot less of that in the army.”

“Right, who knew we had it so good?”

Steve smiled before fixing his eyes on Bucky thoughtfully. “What’s got you awake at night?”

“Oh, you know,” Bucky gestured around them. “Matt’s insisting on going through everything and it’s just taking longer than I thought.”

“You’re there a lot?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky shrugged, “most days at the moment. He’s thorough. I guess that’s what makes him so good.”

“I’ve heard that about him,” Steve said.

There was an edge to his voice that gave Bucky pause. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing,” Steve said. “Just… I mean, you don’t need to be there for that, do you?”

“Well,” Bucky said, shifting. “I dunno, I think they appreciate the help and it’s the least I can do when it’s all free. Matt could be giving that sort of advice for more than we make a week here in an hour, you know?”

“I just don’t know that it’ll end up being needed,” Steve said, squaring his shoulders and leaning forward to stare intently at Bucky. “If we can prove some of the things we’re getting close to here…”

“That’s a big if,” Bucky said. “Besides, maybe he’ll turn up something _we_ can use. Plus, maybe, if we share some-”

“No,” Steve said. “Not yet.”

“I know, but eventually-”

“Maybe,” Steve said, leaning back, almost seeming to deflate. “I guess we’re going to need to make this bigger than just us eventually.”

“Right,” Bucky said, getting the distinct impression he was missing something.

***

 

Bucky shifted from foot to foot and tried not to glare. Shuri was in the shop and it was getting close to closing. Bucky was trying his best not to make it obvious how much he wanted her to leave. It wasn’t that he was sure Steve was going to come, but it had been a few days and he just suspected.

“You nearly done?” he asked, hoping he sounded vaguely interested and not ungrateful and rude.

She grinned over her shoulder at him. “Patience, old man,” she said. “You expecting someone?”

Bucky locked his face. “I’m just wondering when you’re going to be done putting God knows what on my computer.”

“Yes,” she said, solemnly, “giving you free software to better do your accounts and new unbreakable firewalls so no one can break into your personal files is _such_ an inconvenience. I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate it,” Bucky said, “I just don’t know who’s going to care enough to try hack a second hand book store.”

She shrugged. “Maybe no one, but I enjoyed writing the code anyway.”

“You should be applying to colleges,” he said slowly. He knew the glare he was going to get but the words refused to stay in his chest. They never did. It was a pattern at this point.

“You should be out having a life rather than sulking around dusty books,” she countered, glare out in full force. “We’ve all got our reasons for what we do, white boy, don’t tell me mine are less valid than yours.”

Bucky opened his mouth to tell her to stuff it when the door opened. It was Steve. Of course. Shuri looked so delighted that Bucky had the sudden urge to hide. Instead he planted his feet firmly and squared his shoulders. He’d been a soldier. A good one. There was no need to run in the face of a teenager and the guy he couldn’t seem to stop smiling dopily at being the same room.

“Oh,” Steve said, obvious surprise that Bucky wasn’t alone on his face for a moment before he covered it with a smile. “Shuri, nice to see you again.”

“I’m sure you’re beside yourself,” she said, barely concealing her smirk. “I’m just finishing updating Bucky’s computer. He was still on windows 95, which I didn’t think was possible.”

The look Steve gave her suggested that while he didn’t understand a word, he had no doubt she was doing good, important work. Bucky had never met someone with such an expressive face. It was a something to behold, and that was before you got to the fact it might have been carved by the hand of an angel.

“Hey Steve,” Bucky said, drawing his attention and a smile that managed to make Bucky’s toes curl. “Drink?”

“Sure,” Steve said, “thanks.”

“No thank you, Bucky,” Shuri called after him. “I’m leaving anyway.”

“I ain’t giving you beer,” he said when he got back. “Worth more than my life if your brother ever found out.”

“That and it’s wrong,” Steve added with a look that might have been utterly serious or teasing, Bucky wasn’t sure.

“That too,” he agreed either way.

“Well, in that case,” Shuri said with a put on sigh, “I’m leaving.” She clicked the mouse a couple of last times before leaning down to scoop up her bag. “Just don’t get so drunk you forget your date!” she smiled sweetly up at Bucky. “He’ll only end up calling _me_ again to find out where you are.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I told you that was because I’d left my phone at home and he knew I was helping you out. Which you asked me to do by the way.”

Steve was looking between them, a frown on his face. “Who are you talking about?”

“Matt,” Shuri said. “He has no chill about Bucky at all.”

“Dear _god_ ,” Bucky sighed. “Shut up. He’s busy, he had another meeting and I was late.”

“Sure,” she said, already at the door, “if you say so. See you Bucky, see you Steve.”

Bucky watched her go with a shake of her head.

“She’s a good kid,” Steve noted when the door was closed and Bucky had gone over to lock it.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Real good, I keep trying to convince her she doesn’t need to stay and help with he family business. She could have been in MIT years ago.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked. “She’s into computers?”

“She’s a genius, I reckon,” Bucky said. “Never seen something she _wasn’t_ good at.”

“Maybe I should introduce her to Stark,” he said.

“Yeah? That meeting go well?”

Steve made a face which might have meant could have been worse. “He’s… a trip. Nice guy, I think, heart in the right place at least. He’s just a lot and never heard no in his life.”

“I know the type,” he agreed. “He have anything that could help?”

“Not yet, he said he’d look into it.” He looked thoughtful, like he wasn’t sure if he trusted that.

“Worth a shot,” Bucky shrugged. “Maybe he’ll find something we don’t.”

They chatted amabily for awhile. Bucky could feel himself starting to relax, like he always did when Steve was there. It was like he could finally just _be_ when they were together. Like he didn’t need to pretend to be something else. Which was strange because it wasn’t like he also wasn’t desperately trying to impress him. Well, not exactly _impress,_ but it was like he could feel himself wanting to make sure Steve was happy, make sure that he was taken care of - whether that meant making him smile because he seemed sad, or making sure that he had food around because it seemed like Steve didn’t bother to eat if there was something more important he needed to be doing. He wasn’t sure why he was doing it, either, he knew his crush was a lost cause. He _knew_ that. But he wanted to be his friend anyway. He could move on from the crush, it wouldn’t be the first time and it would be worth it. But it was hard to get his protective streak under control. Bucky had always liked taking care of people but Steve seemed to bring it out of him more than almost anyone he’d ever met.

Of course it wasn’t helped when Steve did things like turn to him and ask softly. “You mind if I hang out for a bit? I know you’re heading off but I like it here; it’s easier for me to concentrate than in my office.” He looked so damn hopeful, but also coy, like he was asking something completely out of order but couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Bucky’s whole chest felt like it was filling with warmth. The idea that Steve wanted to be in his shop made something inside of him that had been cold for years start to warm. He smiled a bit helplessly. “Yeah,” he said, “of course. I’ll leave you a key. Just lock up when you’re done.”

“Thanks, Buck,” he said, something like relief fliting across his face. “Have a good time with Matt.”

Bucky paused for a moment, and was going to make a quip about not being sure how exciting paper work could really be, when his phone beeped in his pocket. He drew it out and frowned at the message. “Sorry,” he said, “that’s Matt, he’s heading back early and wants to meet now. You’ll be okay if I go?”

“Yeah,” Steve waved him off, a smile that looked slightly strange plastered across his face. “See you another time.”

“There’s more beer in the fridge,” Bucky said, pulling on his coat. “I think there might even be some leftover take out, have anything you want.”

He forced himself not to look back or feel disappointed about leaving. There’d be other times to spend with Steve, and what Matt and Foggy were doing for him was more than he’d ever hoped he’d be able to get. It wasn’t fair to any of the other businesses that were at risk to not give his full attention to whatever might help them. So he pushed his own feelings down and hurried along the street.

His thoughts remained on the shop, and its occupant the entire evening, though. Whenever there was a lull in activity or conversation Bucky found his mind wandering back to what Steve was doing, if he was still there. Was he looking at the books? The notice board that Bucky had pinned one of Steve’s campaign posters to just because it had made Steve blush when he’d shown it to him? Was he drinking Bucky’s beer? The thought was oddly pleasing, like Steve was somehow more fully part of his life because he was existing in Bucky’s space, with Bucky’s things, when he wasn’t there.

It wasn’t even a question that Bucky was going to take the long way home after he was done so he could go past the shop. He didn’t think for a moment Steve would still be there, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He couldn’t have kept away even if he’d wanted to, and he didn’t. He needed to see the evidence that he’d been there. Be closer to the reality of it. His breath caught in his throat when he was close enough to see that the light was still on in the shop. His sped up, as though if he didn’t move quickly enough it might turn out to be his imagination. But no, when he was right outside he could see Steve there, sitting behind the counter, reading something intently. There was a little frown between his eyes and he was hunched over, like physical proximity might help him take in the words. Bucky’s heart clenched in a way that let him know he was totally screwed before he was letting himself in the front door.

“Hey,” he said, trying not to startle Steve by just appearing at his side.

The other man looked up, the little frown of concentration evening out into a smile. “You came back,” Steve beamed at him, like Bucky interrupting him was a genuine pleasure.

He shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious as his chest fluttered. “Matt had to get on with some actual paying work,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, hoping he sounded normal and not too overjoyed that Steve hadn’t left.

Steve went serious, his eyes narrowing in a way that meant he was about to say something that anyone else would find too embarrassingly sincere to say out loud. “Matt’s a good person,” he said slowly, looking at Bucky intently, like he was concerned Bucky might not know that.

Bucky frowned back at him before realisation slowly dawned. “Have you been drinking the whole time I’ve been gone?” he asked, noting the bottles littering the counter.

“No,” Steve started and then seemed to notice the bottles himself. “Oh, yeah. I guess I had a couple more, you said I could help myself. Sorry, I can get you some more.”

It wasn’t like the four beers he’d had would be enough to actually make him drunk, but they certainly seemed to have loosened him up. It was nice, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Steve look so relaxed. He waved him off. “No, it’s totally fine. You want another?” he asked, heading to the back room as he spoke.

“I should go,” Steve said, starting to climb to his feet. But Bucky thought he could sense some hesitation as he did it.

He took a breath and motioned for him to sit back down. “Nah,” he said, “stay a bit. I got something better than beer, I think. It’s nearly the weekend and I think we should celebrate.”

Steve was smiling when he looked back and had dutifully slumped back into his chair. Bucky counted it as a win. “What we celebrating?”

“Anything you want,” he said. “Getting through another week without a massive fuck up?”

“A rare enough occurrence,” Steve conceded with a duck of his head.

“To another week where we didn’t ruin our, or anyone else’s, lives,” Bucky said, pouring out a shot of the best whiskey he had.

Steve grinned and picked up his glass. “Cheers,” he said.

Bucky took a sip and tried not to grimace too obviously. His nicest whiskey wasn’t actually nice, it wasn’t paint stripper-terrible, but still. Steve didn’t seem to mind, he knocked it back with apparent pleasure.

“You know,” Steve said, “if we’re drinking, we should really use it as an excuse to get to know each other better. It seems like we skipped right through the preliminaries straight to the political intrigue and war stories.”

Bucky could tell he was smiling a bit too enthusiastically at the idea. “Okay,” he said, pouring another shot. “Ask me something, take your best shot.”

“Okay,” Steve said, his face a mask of concentration for a second. “You grow up around here?”

“That’s it?” Bucky asked, amused, charmed and sort of disappointed all at once. “That’s all you want to know?”

“I want to know everything about you,” Steve said simply. “But that’s as good a place to start as any.”

Bucky could feel that he was blushing which was mortifying. But it wasn’t enough to stop the wave of embarrassed pleasure washing over him. “Well, okay,” he said dumbly. “Let’s start there.”

Nearly half the bottle later, Bucky was laughing so much that he couldn’t quite catch his breath. It wasn’t just the alcohol, although that was playing its sweet, sweet part. It was with sheer delight. Every little thing Steve said made something soften in Bucky’s chest, made him like him even more. Whether he agreed with him or not, and there was plenty they didn’t agree on. What sort of freak didn’t like Star Wars?

“Hmmm okay,” Bucky said, pleased that his voice mostly didn’t slur. He squinted at Steve, his tongue felt loose, like the warm cocoon of alcohol was protecting him from doubts and concern. “Weirdest place you’ve ever had sex?”

“Oh, no,” Steve said, his mouth quirking and his face flushing the most beautiful shade of red Bucky had ever seen. Even in the dim light of the shop he could see the way his the red dusted his cheeks, reaching up to the tips of his ears and creeping down his throat. He wondered how far down it went. Thankfully Steve spoke again and distracted him before he could ask. “That’s a eighth shot question.”

“This has got to be, like, the ninth,” Bucky pointed out, and then reached out to tip the bottle over their glasses. “This is ten, so fess up.”

Steve shook his head but threw the drink back, he didn’t even grimace. “Storage room of a Home Depot store.”

Bucky had not been expecting that and only just managed to avoid spitting his drink all over Steve and the counter. “I’m sorry what? _How_?”

Steve was grinning at him, seemingly delighted. “That wasn’t the question,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Wow, Rogers,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “That’s pretty romantic, I gotta say. You got a thing for power tools? Or is it DIY in general?”

Steve just rolled his eyes and took a swig of his drink that Bucky had immediately refilled for him.

“I mean,“ Bucky continued, when he didn’t say anything, “I guess when the mood takes you, it takes you, but it ain’t exactly the stuff of most people's fantasies is it?”

“Well, he didn’t seem to mind…” Steve started, and then seemed to realise what he’d said. His pleased smile froze just before the rest of him. He blinked down at his hand, where it was still holding the bottle and then placed it very carefully back down on counter.

It felt for a moment like the world was tilting madly under Bucky, even though he was sitting down. “You’re gay?” he asked, his whole posture stiffening in shock.

He watched as Steve’s eyes flashed and his posture changed. He was suddenly sitting almost at ease, his chin tilted in what might have been defiance, any of the lose, slightly drunk quality of his movements of moments before, was gone. “That a problem?” he asked, voice hard.

“No,” Bucky said, unable to keep the shock out of his voice. His mind was racing, trying to fit together what he was being told. But it didn’t add up. “I just…” he started, and then took a breath. “I thought you were seeing that British diplomat.” They’d been together almost the entire campaign, pictured everywhere, like the perfect American dream. Although, now he thought about it, she hadn’t been around so much recently.

Steve looked at him hard, his posture not relaxing in the slightest.

“I mean it,” he said, although he couldn't keep the tension constricting his chest out of his voice. Because, the more he thought about it, the more of an idiot he was starting to feel. “It’s fine,” he repeated just before undermining his point entirely by adding: “I just didn’t have you down as the sort to go in for lying to the public.”

“What?” Steve snapped. He looked like he was coiled tight, prepared to fight at any moment. He recognised that stance from the one he’d taken every time someone mentioned his sexuality in the army. Somehow that just made Bucky more annoyed.

“You, during the campaign,” he spat, anger growing in his stomach at the way Steve was staring at him incredulously. Surely this wasn’t a surprise. Bucky had been open about being gay from pretty much the moment they’d met, but Steve hadn’t bothered to return the favour. It probably shouldn’t bother him, and somewhere in the back of his mind he was realizing that his problem might be more complex than just Steve keeping things from him. Because if Steve was gay it meant that he probably _had_ known Bucky was flirting with him and just wasn’t interested. The thought was embarrassing and it made his next words come out much harsher than they might have otherwise. “Parading around like you two were the fucking new Kennedys or something. She know what she was getting into or was she being lied to, too?”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous suddenly. He stood up. He was taller than Bucky, probably a bit bigger too, and it meant he was looming over him. But there was no way in hell Bucky was backing down, or letting himself be intimidated. He glared at him and got slowly to his feet, hoping he seemed totally unbothered by Steve’s hulking frame leaning toward him.

But Steve wasn’t done, he pointed a finger at Bucky, his eyes narrowed. “You have no _idea_ what I- Don’t you _dare_ -” He broke off and visibly calmed himself. “Peggy and I were together, for your information, not that it’s your business in the slightest. You’re aware of the other letters in the community right, or are you just that self-involved you’ve never bothered to look up what they mean?”

Bucky immediately felt like a dick, the anger draining out him and making him duck his head. Suddenly drinking games with the guy that he was desperately into seemed like the stupidest idea imaginable.

“Yeah,” he said, slowly. “I didn’t… I’m sorry.” He sighed. Steve was giving him a disappointed look and Bucky felt bad enough to continue talking. “I guess I’m just a bit tetchy about closets. I decided it was a good idea to come out in the army and… Well, Grant was about the only one that never seemed to have an issue with it. I’m sorry, what I said was totally uncalled for.”

Steve relaxed slowly, the tension leaving him inch by inch. “Sorry,” he said, softly, sitting back down abruptly and rubbing his eyes. “I didn’t… I’m not… I was with Peggy. It just didn’t…” He gestured vaguely.

“Look,” Bucky said, pausing for a moment before slowly sitting back down too, so they were on the same level, “you really don’t owe me an explanation, I’m sorry I was being a dick.”

“No, it’s okay,” Steve said, running a hand through his hair. “I can see why you’d think that. They went pretty hard on our relationship in the press, some people in my team thought it was a good angle and I just went along with it. It was stupid, because we both knew it wasn’t working.” He looked down at his glass and picked it back up again. He didn’t take a drink, just swilled the liquid around in the glass and stared at it. “Peggy and I met while I was overseas, and she was…” Steve smiled, a sad twist of her lips. “She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I’d never felt like that before, I was picking out rings from the first week I met her. But,” he paused, looking up at Bucky. “I thought we’d be able to just pick up again when I got back but… I guess I haven’t really been myself since I came home. To be honest, I’m not sure what that even means anymore. I’m really not who I was when I met her.” He looked lost, like he was back somewhere else. “She was really good about it. We’re still really close, but it’s hard, you know? When I’m with her, it’s like I can remember what I used to be like, what I wanted, but I just… I can’t get to it.” He shook his head. “God, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.”

Bucky took a deep breath. “You and your friend…” he started and then realised that he had no right to even _ask._ He shut his mouth firmly.

But Steve’s eyes snapped to him anyway. “No,” he said, firmly. Almost a bit _too_ firmly and then sighed heavily. “I… He-” He shrugged again. “No,” he seemed more certain when he said it again. “But I never told him that I wasn’t straight and sometimes I wonder.” He paused, looking intently at the glass in his hands. He was quiet for a long moment. “What about you and Grant?”

A laugh punched up from Bucky’s chest. “Nah,” he said, glad to be able to answer the question easily. “He was always chasing skirt, never seemed able to catch any. But, no, we weren’t like that. He was the best guy I ever met, stood up for me when it all came out that I… And I loved him, but not like that. I’ve never really dated anyone, to be honest. I was scared to come out before I left and since I got home, I haven’t wanted to.”

Steve nodded slowly. “You think I should have come out during the campaign?”

The question surprised Bucky so much that it took him a long moment to answer. “No,” he said as firmly as he could manage. “Steve, you weren’t lying and it’s no one’s business. I’m sorry, I was just being sore because you caught me off guard. Really, I’m dick, don’t listen to anything I say about anything at all.”

“But, I could have made a difference,” Steve said, searching Bucky’s face, like he was looking for a hint that Bucky didn’t mean what he was saying. “I was a coward.”

“No,” Bucky said, the more Steve spoke, the worse he felt,  “come on, you can’t fight every battle. You didn’t take any corporate donations, you ran on a progressive platform. You defended immigration and campaigned for health reform. There’s a limit, you know?”

“There shouldn’t be,” Steve said.

He really believed that, Bucky realised. _Jesus._ “Well, that ain’t the real world, pal, I’m sorry to break it to you.”

“Since I got back,” he said, like he wasn’t really listening, “I haven’t stopped. I got out of hospital and started campaigning. Then the election and then figuring out everything when I actually won. But,” he sighed and closed his eyes. “This, trying to stop _Moby Dickens_ from closing is the first time I’ve actually felt like I was doing something, like I was making a real difference, you know?”

“Politics not all it’s cracked up to be?” Bucky asked, totally unsure what else he should say.

Steve’s mouth twisted into something a bit like a smile. “No,” he said. “It’s all meetings and networking and talking. I miss…”

“Having something to shoot at?” Bucky guessed.

“I miss knowing what I’m meant to be doing, I miss knowing if I’m actually achieving anything at all.”

“For what it’s worth,” he said, feeling embarrassed, “you’re making a difference. There was a real change in feeling around here, when you got involved. Like people really believed things could change.”

“But you didn’t vote for me,” Steve said, with a small smile.

Bucky smiled. “No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“You seemed too good to be true and I didn’t want to be let down.”

“And now?”

“You still seem too good to be true,” he found himself saying. Then wanted to die. So he hurried on. “But, I know you’ve got two left feet and don’t know when to quit, so I reckon you’re probably not going to let anyone down through lack of trying.”

“Is that enough?”

“Hell, Rogers, it’s everything.”

“Thank you, Bucky,” he said. Then laughed. “It seems like I keep saying that. I’m meant to be helping you, not the other way around.”

“It can’t be both?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling softly. “I guess it can.”

 

**TBC**


	5. Chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a freak out and then gets a visitor

Buck woke the next morning and had a few blissful moments of ignorance before the night before came crashing back over him. He groaned and buried his head into his pillow. He was such a fucking moron. He’d managed to somehow make the nicest man in politics feel like he was a bad guy for not wanting to deal with the shit storm of coming out during a national campaign that had been vicious even by American politics standards. All because Bucky had a ridiculous crush and was embarrassed that Steve wasn’t interested. Sometimes his own depths of shittery still managed to surprise and disgust him.

He scowled and dragged himself out of bed despite it being only a couple of hours since he fell into it. There was was no way he was going back to sleep. He needed to get out of his flat if he had any chance of getting out of the looming spiral of self hate. Perhaps if he went for a run he might be able to leave behind the creeping sense of dread that was slowly filling his stomach. He pulled on some clothes and tried not to wonder if Steve was ever going to come back. He’d probably fucked that up, and because he was just that sort of asshole, fucked up the chances of stopping Shield from closing down every business on the street.

He ran until his legs burnt and his t-shirt was soaked through with sweat. He didn’t feel any better, though, so rather than going home he ended up outside Wanda’s shop waiting for her to arrive.

“Oh, God,” a voice from behind him said, “what did you do?”

He turned and tried not to look too pathetic as he stepped back to let her get to the door.

“So, you’ve basically woken up with a serious case of beer fear,” she concluded half an hour later.

Bucky cradled his coffee and shook his head miserably. “No, it’s worse than that,” he said. “You didn’t see how angry he was.”

“Well,” she said, “you were a dick. But,” she hurried on before Bucky could speak. “You apologised. It sounds like you had your first fight. Congratulations, that’s an important milestone in every relationship. Now, move on and don’t let it fester.”

“Easy for you to say,” he muttered. “What if he never comes back?”

“He will,” she said, standing up and pointedly starting in on her morning routine, clearly signaling that the conversation was over. “But, if he doesn’t, then he’s the unreasonable one and there’s really nothing you can do about that.”

She was right, but somehow that didn’t actually make him feel any better. “You know,” he said, trying to convince himself, “it’s probably better that I know about this. Now I know that we’d never actually work even if by some miracle he did like me like that.”

“What? Why?” Wanda was pulling out various things from cupboards and down from shelves but Bucky knew she was listening. She was good like that. There was something about the distracted way she let him talk that made it easier to keep going.

“He’s in the closet,” he said. “That’s like, my only dating rule, no one that’s not out. Besides, I remember what it was like for them, now. They were in every magazine, every newspaper. They couldn’t go on a single date without it making the evening news. Can you imagine what Fox News would do if they knew Steve was with someone like me?”

“I’m going to assume you mean a man,” Wanda said, “because otherwise I’m going to have to beat you about the head with this rolling pin.”

“Well, yes, that’s for starters,” Bucky said. “But, even if they got over that, I’m…” He ran out of words which was for the best. Wanda wouldn’t understand, refused to understand, that Bucky wasn’t a good person. Not like Steve was. There was too much in his closet for that. He’d ruin everything Steve had created and while he might be a selfish asshole, he wasn’t _that much_ of a selfish asshole. “This is for the best,” he repeated. “It’s what I needed to move on.”

Wanda sighed. “Okay,” she said. “It would be a lot, if you were to be with him. I understand that it might be too much. But, Bucky, please don’t give up on something that could make you happy just because you've decided you don’t deserve it.”

She was so certain sounding that Bucky didn’t have it in him to disagree with her. Instead he drank his coffee in silence, watching her work and trying to let it calm him.

He was late opening the shop. He dragged himself home and into a shower with not enough time to be back at the shop to be open by eight. He couldn’t really seem to make himself care. He trudged down the street, his eyes on the pavement.

“James Barnes?”

Bucky startled, looking up to find someone waiting outside the door of the shop. “Yeah?” he asked.

“My employer would like a word,” the man said, clearly at least attempting to make it seem like a request. He wearing a dark suit, his eyes obscured by sunglasses, despite the overcast morning. Bucky tried not to tense too visibly.

“And who would they be?” he asked, brushing by the man and opening the door, without looking behind him.

“Governor Pierce,” a new voice said, low and rich, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky spun on his heel, eyes wide. Sure enough there was a face Bucky was used to seeing daily on TV smiling back at him. Governor Pierce was holding out his hand, a warm smile on his face.

“Hi,” Bucky said, dimly. “It’s an honour. But it’s just James or Bucky; I’m not in the army anymore.”

“Of course,” he said, totally unfazed by the correction. “You mind if we go inside? I tend to draw a crowd if I hang around on the street these days.”

“Of course,” Bucky stuttered, “come on in.” He tried not to feel self-conscious as he lead Pierce and what he assumed was his bodyguard into the shop. “I’d offer you coffee,” he said, “but the machine broke. I can head across the street, though, if you want.”

Pierce just smiled at him, all warm ease and charm. It wasn’t like Steve, not really, although there were similarities. But unlike Steve, Pierce was impenetrable, Bucky couldn’t see anything beyond his warm but bland smile. “I’m fine, thank you. I just wanted to come by and see the famous _Moby Dickens_ for myself.”  

Bucky frowned, it wasn’t like he didn’t know the likely reason he was there, but it still sounded vaguely absurd hearing it out loud. He nodded, feeling off balance and not liking it. “It’s a real institution to the neighbourhood.”

“That it is,” Pierce agreed easily. “I can see why you’re working so hard to ensure its future.”

Bucky nodded again, waiting for the punchline. There was something about the way Pierce was looking at him that he didn’t like. It was calculating, like he was trying to figure out a play. He was reminded forcefully of his first meeting with Steve and how suspicious he’d been. Looked like not much had really changed. But then he’d been looking for some sign that Steve was anything less than sincere but hadn’t been able to find anything. Now, it was like he could see that Pierce’s reasons for being there were nothing like what he was saying they were. The difference between him and Steve couldn’t have been more stark, despite the superficial similarities.

“I’ve been impressed with the campaign you’ve run,” Pierce said, flashing him another smile, “it’s really gotten a lot of attention at City Hall.”

“It’s been a team effort, really. Lots of the other businesses have been involved,” Bucky said, his unease growing.

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” he said. “There’s been a lot of talk about you specifically.”

“Well, that’s what people do. Don’t always make it true.” He hoped he came across as blandly helpful; it was the tone he’d always taken to using when reporting on missions. Better that higher-ups thought you were a bit simple and eager to please. He kept his face blank as he stared back at Pierce.

“You don’t need to tell me that, James,” he said. “But, nevertheless, I’m impressed. The campaign for such a small shop has been fierce. It’s a shame that it’s threatening the chances of bringing so many new jobs into the neighbourhood, but I appreciate the spirit.”

Bucky bit down on the first several things he wanted to say in response to that. “I’m more interested in protecting he jobs that are already here,” he settled on.

“And I understand that,” he said. “I ran on the promise of creating opportunities, of ensuring that everyone had the chance of getting work and I’m working hard to make sure that happens.”

“You want me to stop the campaign,” he said, his voice flat. It wasn’t like he had any intention of doing it, he couldn’t believe Pierce really thought he would.

Pierce looked genuinely shocked for a moment. “No,” he said, as though the thought had never crossed his mind. “I wouldn’t for a moment ask that. I can see that it’s important to you. I’m here with an offer, that’s all. I want to work with you on this project. Shield have given me personal assurances that they won’t cut into the work of local businesses, and I’d like to make sure that happens. Well, actually, I’d like _you_ to make sure it does.”

Bucky blinked at him. “I don’t…” He frowned. “What are you suggesting?”

“There’s an opening in my team,” he said. “It’s a community liaison officer role and you’d be working on the Shield project. You’d be overseeing what they’re up to, making sure that they aren’t overstepping. Plus,” he leant forward with a smile, “you’d be able to help them direct any community investment fund they have in anyway you saw fit. So, for example, if there were certain community treasures you wanted to ensure remained in businesses, you’d have the resources to make it happen.”

“You’re offering me a job working for you?” He said the words slowly, wanting to make sure he was understanding it correctly.

“I’m offering you the best chance you have of saving your community,” Pierce said. “Plus, I know real talent when I see it. I could find a lot of uses for someone with your _skill set_.”

The way he said it made Bucky think he didn’t mean his talent for window displays. “Look,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I appreciate the offer, really. But, it’s not for me. If you want, I can suggest a few other people that have helped out on the campaign, but my place is here.”

Pierce blinked once and Bucky thought he could see a flicker of an emotion pass across his face but it was gone almost immediately. “That’s a real shame, Mr Barnes,” he said slowly, regret clear in every word. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, you could have real power to shape this community how you see fit.”

Bucky tried to repress the shiver his words sent through him. “Thanks, but it’s not something I’m interested in. I just want to keep _Moby_ in business and keep my head down, that’s all.”

“Sadly, I’m not sure those things are both possible anymore,” he said sadly. “I really want to help you, James, but I also have to consider the best interests of the entire community. Progress can’t be stopped for one shop, however sentimental it might make us.”

“Maybe,” he said, fighting hard to keep his voice bland. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t try.”

Pierce smiled again. “You know,” he said, “being on my team might be useful in other ways too. I look after my own, you know? I have pretty good relationships with the news and community groups. If that ever became an issue.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Bucky said, honestly baffled about the turn the conversation had suddenly taken.

“It would be a shame,” he said slowly, “if you were used against any of your friends. I know you’ve got many of them in high places these days. I wouldn’t want anything from your past or your _private life_ to reflect on them.”

Bucky felt sick, the floor seemed to spin for a moment and it was all he could do to keep his face neutral. The silence stretched on for so long that Pierce spoke again.

“Well,” he said, suddenly all smiles again, “how about I leave my card? Think it over, there’s no shame in changing your mind, if your circumstances should suddenly change. I’m not planning on looking elsewhere to fill the role for a few weeks. Just think about it.” He pulled out a card from his breast pocket and held it out to Bucky with another bland smile.

Bucky balled his hand into a fist tightly for a moment before forcing himself to reach out and take the offered card. “Nice to meet you, Governor,” he said, careful to keep his voice level. “I appreciate the visit.”

“Nice to meet you too, James,” Pierce said. “Think about what I said.”

Bucky didn’t move as both men turned and left the shop. He swallowed hard, realising that his heart was pounding in his chest.

He considered not telling Steve about the visit, especially when he wasn’t sure if he was even interested in hearing from Bucky at all. But in the end, he knew that he had to, if Pierce was at the blackmail stage then Steve really needed to know. He sighed and pulled out his phone and typed a text carefully. They weren’t really big on texts, mostly leaving communication to when they were actually in the same room.

_Just had a visitor, you around for a chat?_

Bucky sent the message before forcing himself to start the process of opening the shop. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he wouldn’t be bullied out of running his business. Certainly not by a stuffed suit, however much his heart was still ponding and his hand was sweaty at the implications in Pierce's words.

His phone vibrated a few minutes later and he fumbled it out of his pocket as fast as he could.

_I’ll be there later._

He let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. He hadn’t really believed, hadn’t _wanted_ to believe, that Steve wasn’t going to text him back. But the fear he’d felt upon waking was lingering despite his best efforts. Later might mean any number of things, but he was pretty sure that he could expect Steve at the end of the day unless he responded that it was urgent. And it wasn’t. Pierce had given him weeks to think it over. He could wait.

 

***

 

“Bucky?” Steve called, pushing open the door that evening.

Bucky stuck his head around the bookcase he’d been stocking and waved. “Hey,” he said, “thanks for coming. Could you get the door?”

Steve turned to lock the door and flipped the sign over before walking across the floor to meet him at the counter. “What happened?” he asked, agitation clear in his voice.

He was almost tempted to dismiss it, over the course of the day he’d started to wonder if he’d perhaps been a bit too paranoid about the whole thing. Maybe he was making a fuss about nothing. But it was too late now, Steve wasn’t going to let it go, not now Bucky had already made a fuss by texting him. “Governor Pierce was here when I got in this morning,” he said, deciding just to get to the point. “Wanted to offer me and job and suggest that I might want to get out of the way of progress.”

Steve was frowning at him like couldn't fully comprehend what he was hearing. “Are you kidding me?” he asked, eventually outrage already clear in his voice. “He really said that?”

“Not in exactly those words,” he said, “but that was the general vibe. He was real friendly, the sort of friendly that almost tips over into being aggressive, you know?”

“That sounds like him,” Steve agreed. “What did you say?”

“I told him I wasn’t interested,” Bucky said. “I wouldn’t even have mentioned it, but… He said he’d hold open the position, _in case my circumstances changed_ in the near future. He also,” Bucky grimaced, “he alluded to you, saying that it would be a shame if anything about me reflected badly on you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Steve looked incandescent for a moment, his eyes alight with such fury that Bucky almost took a step back. “He threatened you?”

“It’s fine, Steve,” he said. “It was probably just hot air. I know his type, thinking his position is going to blind me, get me all confused and worried so I just roll over. He’s not the first guy to think he can intimidate me.”

“Pierce is big time,” Steve said, like Bucky might have failed to notice this. Then suddenly all the anger seemed to drain out of him. “This is my fault,” he said miserably.

“What?” Bucky said, confused.

“You told me to not get involved and draw attention to the campaign, but I didn’t listen.” He frowned angrily and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Maybe I should take a step back.”

“You mean you don’t want to look into what’s going on anymore?” Bucky’s head was spinning from all the abrupt changes in Steve’s mood and thinking.

“No,” he said firmly. “But I shouldn’t have dragged you into it. The campaign and me looking into corruption around Hydra should be separate. The closer we get, the bigger the chance that you’re going to get into trouble, that they’ll make sure you go under just to spite me. I‘ve been selfish to- I need to make the campaign and my investigation separate.”

“And how are you going to manage that?” he asked, cocking his head to one side. “They’re pretty fucking bound up.”

“Well, for starters,” Steve said, looking stricken that Bucky didn’t get it, “I could stop using the shop as an office. I should have known that people would start to notice I’m here all the time. I shouldn’t be involving you in this, it’s not fair.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Bucky said, his voice raising with the words. “I want to be involved! It’s literally my damn business. And even if it wasn’t, I’d still want to help you. This is too important to just walk away from because some big swinging dick comes by with a vague threat. I’m not going to walk away any more than you are.”

Steve shook his head. “No, it’s too risky,” he said firmly. “I shouldn’t have gotten you so involved. That was wrong of me. I can’t… This is my fight, Bucky, not yours, it’s what I signed up for, to help people, I’m not…” Steve sighed. “I can do it alone.”

Bucky watched him for a moment. There was a chance, perhaps a big one, that this was all just an excuse. What with how Bucky had behaved the night before, maybe Steve just wanted a reason to stop hanging around so much. But the more he looked at him, the less he believed that. Steve’s mouth was drawn into a tight, unhappy line, his shoulders hunched like he was carrying some great weight on his shoulders.

Bucky sighed. “The thing is,” he said softly, trying and mostly failing to catch Steve’s eye. “You don’t have to.”

Steve finally looked up. “I appreciate what you’re saying, Bucky, but it’s really fine. I’ll be okay doing this on my own.”

“Look, you meathead,” he said. “You ain’t listening to me. I never said you couldn’t do it alone, just that you won’t be. You ain’t getting rid of me that easy. I’m with you in this.”

Steve had started to grin, almost like it was despite himself, the moment Bucky had called him a meathead. “Yeah?” he asked, voice soft. “Even though it looks like it could get messy?”

“Yeah,” Bucky reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder and gripped it. “I’m with you, ‘till the end of the line.”

He barely had a moment to feel embarrassed for leaking his feelings all over him before Steve kissed him. Bucky froze, his whole body going rigid with surprise. He’d barely registered that Steve’s lips were on his, that they were soft and full, before they were gone.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, his eyes wide and almost surprised seeming as Bucky felt. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Bucky could only blink at him; his heart was hammering in his chest so hard that it felt like it was trying to escape. It took him a moment for Steve’s words to sink in before his stomach seemed to drop right out of him. “What?”

“That was,” Steve said, looking at the ground. “That wasn’t fair of me.”

“No,” Bucky said, confusion and shock starting to turn into something closer to annoyance in his chest. He got Steve was impulsive, but it wasn’t fair for him to mess with someone like that. Bucky had had too strange a day to deal with it. “I guess you shouldn’t have, not if you didn’t mean it.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not… You don’t _owe_ me anything.” The words were jagged as he forced them out, unable not to offer some comfort even though it hurt. “I know I’m a bit- I get that you feel sorry for me, but there’s no need to-”

“Sorry for you?” It was apparently Steve’s turn to look utterly lost.

“I just mean…” Bucky gestured. “Don’t do things like that just because you think I want them. I get that you wouldn’t- I get that this isn’t going to happen. I’m your friend, that’s fine. That’s all I was looking for from you, you’re already doing more than I deserve for the shop. There’s no need for-”

“Bucky,” Steve interrupted, “I didn’t kiss you because I felt _sorry_ for you. If anything, it’s the other way- I just meant that it’s not right when I know you’re with someone. It was just-”

“I’m what now?” Bucky felt like it was possible they were having totally separate conversations.

Steve gave him an odd look. “I know about you and Matt,” he snapped. “I don’t know why you don’t like talking about it with me, but I know you’re together.”

Bucky reeled back. “What are you _talking_ about? He’s giving me some help with the legal stuff for the appeal – and it’s not even really him, it’s Foggy.”

“You mean you’re not…” Steve started, his eyes wide. He was starting to get a flush of colour over his cheeks and Bucky watched his skin turn red with rising confusion.

“Not…?” Bucky started before realisation dawned on him. “You think I’m _sleeping_ with Matt?”

“Well,” Steve gestured vaguely, “Shuri said it was a date and you’re there all the time at night. I mean, he offered you help without even knowing anything about the shop or anything!”

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what Steve was saying, but it was just so absurd that he couldn’t seem to process it. “She was teasing me,” he said. “Because, sure, the guy’s gorgeous but he’s sure as shit’s not interested in me. I think he’s seeing his assistant, in fact.”

“Oh,” Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at the floor.

“Is that…” Bucky started. “Is _that_ why you’ve been a bit weird about him this whole time?”

“Apparently I’m a jealous idiot,” Steve said with a helpless little shrug.

“Jealous?” Bucky repeated dimly. It wasn’t like that had become perfectly obvious in that last few moments, but it felt like the conversation kept running away from him and he was having trouble keeping up.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Steve said. “I should have said something, or, I should have kept my feelings in check better.”

“Feelings?” He wanted to contribute more than feebly repeating random words back to Steve, but his brain seemed to have short-circuited and forming words was too hard.  

Steve huffed out a breath. “Nat’s right,” he said. “I’m terrible at this.”

Bucky could only stare at him.

“Okay,” he said, squaring his shoulders, “I’m just going to stop talking and kiss you again.” He paused. “Is that okay?”

“Yes?” Bucky would have been mortified that it came out as a question, but Steve was kissing him again and he couldn’t think about anything at all.

He eventually managed to wrestle control of his body and move his hand to grab the back of Steve’s t-shirt and pull him closer. He opened his mouth, and Steve sighed into the kiss. Then Steve’s hands were in his hair and it felt like Bucky’s whole body was suddenly alive in a way he hadn’t been for years. Every part of him that was pressed against Steve tingled and he was starting to feel a bit lightheaded from the pleasure tingling right down his spine.

And then his brain caught up with him and he pulled back. “Look,” he said, placing a hand gently on Steve’s chest when it looked like he was going to step back towards him. “I can’t say that wasn’t a hell of kiss.” Steve smiled so brilliantly at him, that Bucky had to look away. “But, I don’t think it’s a good idea that we do it again. You’re right about one thing,” he said, “it’s not exactly a good idea that it becomes known you’re friends with me and this… this makes it even worse.”

The smile flickered before going out, Bucky ignored the pang in his chest at causing it.

“Why not?” Steve asked. He was squaring his jaw, whether to start a fight or receive the rejection, Bucky wasn’t sure.

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “For a lot of reasons, but number one, I’m not about to go back in the closest for someone. It took me too long to get here and I don’t want to go back to pretending.”

Steve frowned at him, his ‘I’m disappointed in you’ face out in full force. Bucky tried not to flinch at having it turned on him. “I’m not intending to hide who I am, Bucky,” Steve said, serious.

Bucky shook his head. “Look, that’s a real nice sentiment, Steve, but it’s dumb as hell,” he said. “I’m sure you think that right now, but in a few weeks or whatever… Pierce _just_ made it super clear that he’ll make sure any stories involving me are treated with extreme prejudice.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, frustrated that he was having to point out glaringly obvious facts. “There’s going to be a lot of pressure on you to keep this secret.”

“From who?” Steve asked. “Everyone I care about already knows. Are you talking about the media? They can take a long walk for all I care.”

Bucky wanted to shake him. “You say that now, but what about getting re-elected? And after that? There’s already Rogers for President posters all over the neighbourhood. No way am I messing that up for you, even if you pretend you don’t care about it.”

“Messing _what_ up for me?” Steve asked. “I never said I wanted another term. I didn’t… I never even thought I’d be nominated let alone win. Besides, once Hydra hear about what I’m planning I doubt anyone in DC is going to want anything to do with me. Who I… _care_ about isn’t going to make a difference.”

The fact he was right didn’t make Bucky feel any better. “It’s not too late to stop, you know,” he said, slowly. “Not just…” He gestured between them. “I mean, you don’t have to go public with what we’ve found, either.”

“Yes I do,” Steve said softly, but there was steel in his voice.

“Why?” Bucky said. “You could do more good by _not_ destroying your career before it’s even really started, by _not_ painting a target on your back for everyone that’s ever made a profit off of Hydra.”

“Because _it’s the right thing to do, Bucky,_ ” Steve said. “I’m not running away from that. Whatever happens between us, even if it meant I never work in politics again, I’d _still_ do it. You’re not going to convince me otherwise.”

“You’re a stupid punk,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head. “You know that, right?”

Steve grinned. “Yeah? I hear you like that in a guy.”

Bucky couldn’t keep the smile off his face this time. “You hear that?” he asked, letting his tone turn playful. It was easy like this, so easy he almost wanted to question it, but he didn’t. “Who’s been talking?”

“Oh,” Steve said, leaning forward, “I have my sources.”

“That right?” Bucky asked, his eyes flicking down to Steve’s lips.

Steve didn’t answer, instead leaning in to kiss him again. Bucky didn’t fight it this time, he leant into Steve, his right hand coming up to cup the back of his head.

“I ain’t being your first lady, Rogers,” Bucky said, trying to look stern when he pulled back.

“What?” he asked, all innocence and Bucky couldn’t believe that a single person really bought it after spending more than a minute with him. “I think you’d look real good in a nice twin set with some pearls. Pretty as a picture.”

Bucky was so outraged that he couldn’t think of a single to say. So he settled for kissing him instead.

 

**TBC**


	6. Chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head

After that Steve came by the shop most nights. Bucky just about managed to fumble the door closed before they were all over each other. It was like Bucky couldn’t get a enough of touching him. It was insane. If he’d thought his waking mind was consumed with Steve before they’d admitted their feelings for each other it was nothing compared to what it was like now. His every waking moment seemed to be consumed with him. The moment Steve was within five feet of him, Bucky couldn't keep his hands to himself. Not that he exactly _wanted_ to keep his hands to himself and it wasn’t like Steve was complaining either. But, Bucky wasn’t used to it. He wasn’t used to _wanting_ quite like this, especially when he was able to actually have it. He was used to discipline and keeping himself in check.

Wanda had taken one look at him after he and Steve had talked it all out and said, “Don’t you dare overthink this, Bucky, you deserve it.”

Her words echoed in his head whenever his mind started to wander and his heart rate would pick up. He knew it was selfish to start something with Steve when he didn’t know everything about Bucky, perhaps the most important part. But, he reasoned, maybe he had a little time to wait before he told him. It was still all so new, they’d only known each other a few months and had only slept together a handful of times. There was time. He could give himself Steve for a few weeks before he had to tell him everything. He tried not to think about the after; it was a gaping black hole and he was content to leave it like that. He’d be alone, but perhaps Steve would still carry on trying to help _Moby Dickens_ and the other businesses. He thought he would, Steve was too good to back out of that.

Which meant of course it all came crashing down the very next evening. Steve had arrived, take out in hand, before closing. Bucky hadn’t been able to stop grinning since. It was ridiculous, he knew that, but Steve was _there_ and _had brought him food_ and was sneaking kisses between bites. It was the most over the top show of affection Bucky had ever witnessed first-hand and it was all for him. It was more than he’d ever let himself imagine.

They both startled at the envelop being pushed under the door. Bucky frowned and pushed himself to his feet.

“If that’s your secret admirer,” Steve said after him, “I expect you to let him know you’re taken.”

“Well,” Bucky said, grinning stupidly, “let’s not be too hasty there, Rogers. We should at least hear them out. They might have something worthwhile-” He trailed off as pulled out the slip of paper and looked down at it.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent looking at it blankly before Steve was at his side. It felt for a horrible moment like the ground had opened under his feet, ready to swallow him while. He felt dizzy, blinking down at the sheet of paper, hoping it might suddenly say something else.

“What is it?” he asked, trying to peer over Bucky’s shoulder. He was still smiling, even with a little frown of confusion forming between his eyes.

“It’s…” Bucky swallowed hard. “It’s a page from my service record.”

“What?” Steve said. “Why is someone sending you that?”

“To let them know they have it,” Bucky said. He felt sick, his stomach threatening to reject the pad thai he’d just eaten. He tried to take a breath, but it felt like his there was a vice around his chest.

“Buck?” Steve said slowly. “Are you okay?”

He could only shake his head. He wasn’t ready. The unfairness of it made him want to stamp his feet, tear the paper into a million pieces and stuff his fingers in his ears until it all went away.

 _Pull your head outta your ass, Barnes._ A voice said in his head, all swagger and too big confidence. _Life ain’t fair, that news to you or something? Be a man and deal with it._

He shook his head. “Pierce said he could use someone with my skills,” Bucky said, forcing each word painfully out from his chest. His heart was pounding so hard it was all he could hear. “When he came here. He said he could use my _skills_ and then offered me job.”

“Your skills?” Steve asked, his frown deeply etched across his face. “You mean he’s got your service record?”

Bucky could only nod.

“So what? He’s threatening you with them? Do what he says or he’ll release them?” Steve sounded concerned, like he Bucky’s fear was catching.

He was so in his head that it took a moment for Bucky he understand Steve’s words and what they meant. He froze, something gapping and terrifying opening up in his chest as realisation dawned on him. He tried to draw a breath but he couldn’t for a moment. “You’ve _seen_ my service record?” he managed after a long moment of staring blankly at him. “When?”

“I-” Steve started, his face morphing into something less concerned and more panicked. “I just… Natasha gave it to me, after I first mentioned that I was thinking of helping out. She wanted to-”

“To what?” Bucky snapped, taking a step back. “She knew who… She _knew_ what my team did. She worked with us. If there was a security problem with you working with me, why didn’t she just say so?”

“That’s not-” Steve started.

Bucky could see the agitation radiating from him, but his heart was hammering too hard in his chest to really take it in.  “Why didn’t you tell me? You let me carry on like…” He shook his head. “I told you I wasn’t ready to… And you went behind my back. I can’t believe all this time you knew and you just-”

“Bucky,” Steve tried again. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I just… I wanted to wait until you were ready. I know it was wrong, but I didn’t want to push you until you ready. It wouldn’t have been fair to force you-”

“ _Fair?_ ” he spat. “You cared about _fair_ when you knew what I’d done? You knew I was a monster and you just let me carry on pretending that-”

“Bucky _stop_ ,” Steve took a step forward, his face hardening, “you are _not_ a monster.”

“No?” Bucky said. It was all his worst nightmares, he’d thought that it was all behind him, that he’d buried it with Grant’s body. But it was _here_  and he’d never expand. The fact Steve was pretending it was okay, made me furious and terrified. It was always only a matter of time before Bucky got what he deserved and it was here. If Steve couldn’t see that, he was stupider than Bucky had first thought. He took a shuddering breath, desperate to make him understand or admit what Bucky already knew. “Because you know what we did, if you read the whole thing. How can you have done that and say anything else? That was… _Steve_ ,” God he was going to cry, he swiped at his eyes furiously, “we blew up a _college_. We killed _children_. Don’t tell me that I’m not-”

“You didn’t _know,_ Bucky,” Steve cut in. “You followed orders and they fucked it up and that’s not on you. If you’d have known - The moment you realised that it wasn’t the hit you thought it was, you went back in. You saved a lot of people.”

“Not more than I killed,” Bucky said flatly. He shook his head, trying to gather himself. “I was planning on getting out after that, you know. Me and Grant both. We were so… _tired._ ”

Steve was looking at him, eyes wide and intent. “I know, Buck, I know. That wasn’t you.”

“Just one more mission.” He smiled grimly and looked away. “Can you believe that for a fucking cliche? They sent us into a fucking trap.”

“You think it was payback for disobeying orders,” Steve said. There was no disbelief or accusation in his voice, which dimly surprised Bucky. “For going back to help the people in that town?”

Bucky shrugged, wiping at his eyes again. Now it was all out he felt oddly calm, there was nothing he could do now, only accept it. “They sure as shit didn’t give a fuck what happened to us. Maybe it wasn’t them trying to kill us all, but they didn’t do the recon they should have. We walked in there blind and I lost…” He shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve said, hand soft on his shoulder. “I’m not pretending to know how you feel, but I want you to know that what happened wasn’t on you. You’re still a hero and this country owes you debt, just like every other person that served.”

“Leave it, Rogers,” he sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you. The point is he’s going to leak the fact we’re together and then he’s going to release my file. Even if you survive the outing you won’t survive being with a crippled monster. Your career will be over and so will be _Moby Dickens_.”

“So what?” Steve asked. “We just give up?”

“No,” Bucky said. “But maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” He gestured between them. It felt like he wasn’t even really there. “I’m a liability, Steve. I can’t let you get dragged down.”

Steve sighed and looked at his hands for a long moment. “You know why I got elected?”

That was not what he’d expected. “I dunno,” Bucky said softly. “Combination of how you look in a suit and great grassroots campaigning?”

Steve smiled ruefully. “That and the fact everyone underestimated the voting public. People know when they’re being lied to,” he said seriously. “They aren’t stupid. If we’re honest, if we face this head on, I believe that we’ll come out of it just fine.”

Bucky stared at Steve for a long moment, waiting to see something other than fierce determination, but it didn’t come. Steve really wasn’t leaving him. He let out a long breath, suddenly so tired he didn’t have it in him to even argue. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a soft hearted moron?” Bucky couldn’t stop a small smile from creeping across his face. “What’s your plan?”

“Not to run,” Steve said with a raise of his eyebrow. “Tomorrow I’ll talk to my team about releasing a statement about us. I’ll do some interviews. We can get ahead of the story. I’m not ashamed. I’ve _never_ been ashamed and the last thing I’d be ashamed of is being in- is being with you.”

Bucky’s heart was pounding in his chest. He felt overwhelmed and terrified. But under that so, so happy. “You know,” he said, reaching out to grab Steve’s hand. “One day you gotta stop seeming too good to be real, how’s a guy meant to cope with that?”

“ _You’ve_ got to stop saying things like that,” Steve said. “It’ll go to my head and I’ll lose all my folksy charm.”

Bucky gave a watery laugh and did the only thing he could think of. He kissed him.

 

***

 

“Do you like it?” Steve asked, a few nights later, as he lay curled around Bucky. It was how they usually ended up, like Steve was worried Bucky was suddenly going to flee, or be taken from him. Bucky certainly wasn’t complaining.

“What?” he asked, turning so he could drop a kiss to the side of Steve’s face. He arched into it like a giant cat.

“Running the shop,” he said. “You know once we’ve stopped Shield, your debt to Grant will be paid? You could do something else, if you wanted.”

Bucky was still for a long moment, trying to detect any note of judgement in Steve’s voice. He’d heard it before, plenty of people seemed to think he lacked ambition, that he ought to be out there doing something more prestigious. But he couldn’t detect anything but genuine curiosity in Steve’s voice. “Yeah,” he said. “I mean, I started it because I thought I owed it to Grant but I actually love it. It’s quiet, which I need. But it’s more than that. People come there searching for something, you know? A book they lost but loved. I get a kick out of helping them find it. I know it’s not exactly changing the world,” he added, twisting his lips unhappily, “but it’s enough for me.”

“Hey,” Steve said, “I didn’t mean… you know I think _Moby’s_ amazing. I just wondered because it’s not like it was your dream.”

“I know,” Bucky said, shrugging. “How about you? Politics all you hoped it would be?”

It was Steve’s turn to grimace. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “It’s fine.”

Bucky huffed. “Ringing endorsement.”

“I know,” he sighed and nuzzled into Bucky’s neck like he was drawing strength. “I guess I thought I’d be doing something, you know? I was so caught up in trying to get elected that it didn’t occur to me to think about what the actual job would be. Everything’s so _slow_. Nothing ever changes and it’s just talking.”

Bucky couldn’t keep the snort in but didn’t want to actually interrupt.

“Meeting you,” he continued, his arms tightening around Bucky, “doing this. It’s the first time that something might actually change. The whole time before that, months and months. I don’t know, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe I was on the wrong side.”

“Yeah?” he asked, not exactly surprised but wondering where this was going.

“Yeah, whenever I’d see a protest, I’d think ‘ _That_ _should_ _be_ _me_ ’, you know? I get that so much more. I’m not sure I’m made for diplomacy. Taking an issue? Causing a scene? Starting a fight? I’m your man. But sitting down and slowly working through the legislation? I’m not sure.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment, thinking through his next words carefully. “So, you thinking of not running again?”

“I think if this all works out with Hydra I’d never be welcome in any part of DC again,” he said, but he didn’t sound upset. “But that doesn’t bother me. I’ve been looking at NGOs, looking for the right issue.”

Bucky’s heart was hammering in his chest. He didn’t care that Steve was in politics, if that’s what made him happy, Bucky would have attended any number of fundraisers and rallies. The idea didn’t thrill him, but he’d have done it. But the idea that he might not have to, and that Steve might be able to stop splitting his time between DC and Brooklyn made something he wasn’t even aware of being tight, relax.

“Would it bother you?” Steve asked after a moment, perhaps taking Bucky’s silence as unease. “I know it’s like quitting at something just because it’s not exactly like I wanted it to be, but-”

“Jesus, Rogers, no. I think it’s great. If that’s what you want. You should do it. You’re never happier than when you’ve got something to fight. Lobbying might be the best place for you.”

“Really?” Steve looked so hopeful, like he’d been genuinely worried about Bucky’s reaction.

“God,” he whispered, “you’re such a moron, Steve. I love you so much.” He hadn’t been intending to say it. He’d been thinking it for weeks. Probably since the day they’d met, but he’d never dreamed of being stupid enough to say the words out loud. He froze.

Steve pushed himself up so he could stare down at Bucky’s face. He looked surprised but Bucky couldn’t discern any other emotion. He considered his options, he could laugh it off, or even take it back. But what would be the point, really? It was true and Steve deserved to know that. He shrugged and made a vaguely apologetic face.

“You mean it,” Steve said, like it was some sort of beautiful and surprising revelation.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “I do.”

Then Steve was kissing him hard and throwing his leg over Bucky’s so he could lie over him. “I love you too,” he said softly, whispering the words into Bucky’s lips. “I’ve never felt like this before. I didn’t think I could feel like this anymore. You make me feel like I’m alive, again.”

“Fucking hell, Steve,” Bucky gasped, trying to meet his kisses with equal passion. “Me too. I didn’t think I’d ever have something like this, someone I wanted like I do you.”

They didn’t manage to speak much after that, but then they didn’t really need to.

 

***

 

Bucky sighed and scrubbed a hand over this face, trying in vain to wake himself up. It was late, too late, really to be anywhere but at home in bed. But, Steve was working late, finalising the last pieces of evidence before he made contact with his friend in the CIA and Bucky couldn’t settle. Every reason this was a terrible idea just kept playing on a loop around his head. He wished he could be there with Steve, but there was nothing he’d actually be able to do but get in the way or, worse, rouse suspicion. He didn’t want to go home, knowing he just end up pacing his tiny apartment, trying to find things to either fix or clean. Instead, he was trying to use the restless energy to at least be productive in the shop. He’d built an entire new display case and was considering starting on actually tackling his taxes. But even he wasn’t that self-destructive. Instead he climbed wearily to his feet and shuffled into the back of the shop, using only the light from the small lamp he’d been using to stare blankly at the paperwork. Perhaps by the time he’d finished tidying up and walked home, Steve would already be there and he’d be able to relax again.

He was nearly finished washing the last of the mugs when he heard the tinkle of breaking of glass. He might have missed it, but it was so quiet in the shop and he was never really able to switch off that part of himself that was always _expecting_ a sound that suggested danger. He pivoted on his heel and was back in the front of the shop in just a few paces.

He froze, blinking in confusion. His heart seemed to stop for a long, agonising second and then set off at a gallop in his chest. He could hear roaring in his ears, as he stared in front him. It was the smell of smoke that froze him, he realised afterwards, his mind suddenly halfway across the world with the sound of gunfire and screams ringing in his ears. The flames snapped him out of it; they were licking at the side of the bookshelf, creeping across the rug that Sarah had brought from home to cover the bear floorboards, when he stumbled back the way he’d come.

He knew how to work the extinguisher, but he didn’t remember doing it. His mind was completely blank until the sound of sirens and someone saying his name, made him blink back to himself. T’Challa was there, holding him by the shoulders and talking urgently at him, but Bucky couldn’t hear the words.

 _They’ve come for me,_ he wanted to say. _They came back._  

Only, no, he shook his head. That wasn’t right. He was in New York, and the war was long behind him. He let the familiar voice guide him back from five years ago and into the-

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed, twisting, trying ascertain the damage. “Fuck,” he said again, louder. “They broke the window, threw in a rag or something. Fuck.”

He wasn’t sure if that was what he was being asked, but it made sense. Besides, he’d said it more for himself, trying to understand what had just happened. It must have been less than ten minutes, probably not even five and suddenly his world had shifted on its axis.

He was stood just outside the shop, but he could see now that both the front windows were smashed and there was smoke gently seeping out from inside. His heart was still beating wildly in his chest. “They smashed the windows,” he said again, like that wasn’t obvious. “Fuck, if I hadn’t been here-”

“Bucky,” T’Challa said, his voice sharp and it made Bucky finally focus on him. “It’s okay. The fire service is here, and the flames were out before I even got off the phone to them.”

Bucky just shook his head. “It nearly…” He wasn’t sure what he was even trying to say. Horror was building in his stomach.

“But it didn’t,” T’Challa said firmly. “You saved the shop. Everything is fine.”

Bucky understood the words but when he turned back to the shop, all he could see was the smoke, the way the flames had be spreading so _fast_. The world narrowed down to just the smoking windows of _Moby Dickens_ for a moment before everything went dark.

There were flashes of people, movement, someone talking to him. Then, more sirens before he was being taken away. He flailed for a moment, desperate to free himself from where he’d been strapped down, but then T’Challa was at his side. He relaxed, the energy draining out of him abruptly. He blinked, taking a deep breath, finally coming back to himself. 

By the time he was actually at the hospital he was more or less fine, wozy and confused and incredibly embarrassed, but fine. He hadn’t had a panic attack that bad in a couple of years, he’d thought he’d left them behind. He sat on the hospital bed, eyes closed for a long time, trying to gather himself. 

Then the police came to talk to him. Bucky explained what happened and listened as they explained what they’d found at the scene. He’d taken a long, slow breath, trying to breathe through the nausea that rocked through him. They didn’t stay long, but explained that he’d need to give a full statement later and that the shop would be a crime scene for the next few days.

T’Challa remained with him, but thankfully didn’t speak. Bucky had never been more grateful to anyone in his life. He didn’t think he could have done it alone, but the thought of having to speak to anyone, of anyone asking him anything was too much. Instead they sat in silence, waiting for Bucky to be given the all clear so he could go home.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been there before he heard a raised voice close-by. He dragged his head up, turning in the direction of the voice.

“Bucky,” Steve’s frantic voice carried over the sounds of the hospital easily. He was unmistakable, moving through the tight space with grace and coiled power. Bucky just blinked at him, confused but relieved beyond measure that he was there. “Oh God, what happened?” Steve asked as he almost skidded to a halt in front of him.

Bucky stared blankly at him, taking in the slightly frantic expression on his face. He was pale and his eyes were wide, almost haunted looking and slightly red-rimmed. He tried to form some words, wanting to wipe the panicked expression off his face, but nothing came to him.

“I went to the shop and it was-” Steve continued, his voice hitching for a moment. “No one would tell me anything, just that you'd been taken to the hospital. I thought-”

“I’m fine,” Bucky cut in firmly. His voice sounded rough, like he’d be shouting but he forced himself to keep speaking. He reached out and cupped Steve’s face with his hand. The contact seemed to jerk Steve out of whatever hesitation had stopped him from reaching out. His hands moved to copy Bucky, cupping his face and bringing their foreheads together. Bucky closed his eyes, tried to breathe evenly. “Really,” he whispered, even though his voice came out a bit shaky. “I don’t even need to be here, they just wanted to check me out in case I inhaled too much smoke and I had a panic attack. But, really, it’s totally fine.”

“I went to the shop, but they wouldn’t even let me on the street,” he said, his voice soft like Bucky’s. “I had to show my credentials before anyone would even say that you’d been taken to hospital. Fuck, Bucky, I thought-” He took another shuddering breath and seemed to gather himself. He pulled back slightly, so he could reach up and place a rough kiss on his forehead. “What happened?”

“Arson,” T’Challa said. His voice was soft, but firm.

Bucky was glad, again, that he was there. He couldn’t imagine saying the word out loud, even though he knew it was true.

Steve stilled, his whole body going rigid. “What?”

“They smashed the windows,” Bucky managed after a long moment of pulling himself together. “I put it out, but there was some damage.”

“Who-” Steve started.

“The police found graffiti,” T’Challa cut in, his voice neutral and hard. “They think they targeted the shop because of Bucky’s sexuality.”

“Steve,” Bucky said, his heart hammering again, like it had at the shop. He moved his hand from Steve’s face to twist the front of his t-shirt, like he wanted to make sure he didn’t suddenly march right out of the hospital. “Don’t-”

“They did this,” Steve said, his voice hard and cold in a way Bucky had never heard before. “This wasn’t a hate crime, no one even- This was a warning to back off.”

Bucky closed his eyes. He knew Steve was right, had known it since he saw the flames licking at the shelves of the shop. But, he thought uselessly, he didn’t want this. He just wanted to save the life he’d painstakingly built over the last few years. He didn’t _want_ fear and fire and being pursued by an enemy that he couldn’t even _see_ let alone fight back against.

 _Life not treating you fair, princess?_ He heard, somewhere in the back of his head. _Want me to kiss it all better? Or are you going to get up off the mat and do something?_

He almost smiled for a moment, the memory of a voice in his ear. One of the last things Grant had ever said to him, just before they went into a mission they both knew was probably going to go all the way South.

“Well,” he said, his voice much firmer than it had been just moments before. “They can fuck right off then.”

Steve turned to him, his face still pale but eyes hard and furious.

“Let’s get them,” Bucky said. “Let’s get every last fucking one of them.”

There was a long silence where Steve watched him, his eyes searching his face. And then he smiled. 

 

***

 

It all happened very quickly after that. If Bucky thought Steve on a mission was a thing to behold before, once he had the right motivation it was truly scary. He’d called in every favour, kicked up such a fuss no one in Washington seemed brave enough to stand in his way. Then, less than a month later, evidence linking Rumlow to the fire was uncovered creating the biggest political scandal since Watergate.

It was just beginning, though, because apparently he was the chatty sort when a plea bargain was on offer. Matt teamed up with Steve and before anyone could even catch their breath, Natasha had uncovered and uploaded vast amounts of files to the internet detailing Hydra links that stretched into almost every Government department, including, Pierce’s.

“What a tool,” Bucky muttered, watching the screen intently as the news camera zoomed into the handcuffs slipping around his wrists.

“That’s what you get for threatening Steve Roger’s boyfriend,” Shuri jeered next to him. They’d gathered at Moby Dickens to watch the news, and to finish painting over the last of the damage done to the shop by the fire. It was nice, having everyone there to watch Hydra begin to crumble. 

Bucky wanted to glare at Shuri but apparently his body was physically incapable of not smiling like a complete moron when someone called him Steve’s boyfriend. “He’s a force of nature,” Bucky said.

“He’s a hero,” T’Challa said seriously. “We owe him a debt of gratitude.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Shuri said, “I reckon Bucky’s working on paying off that debt for all of us.”

“With interest,” Wanda agreed, her own smile wicked and teasing.

“Look with you two-” Bucky started, but was thankfully saved from having to think of an ending to his sentence by a loud cheer. He whipped his head around to find that Steve and Matt had arrived.

They both looked, truth be told, awful. Neither of them had slept for weeks and while they’d sort of tried to keep up with appearances, they hadn’t actually managed to shave for a couple of days and apparently hadn’t been able to change into fresh suits either. They looked rumpled and tired, like they’d actually had to physically beat the entirety of Congress into submission, which wasn’t really all that far from the truth. But they looked triumphat, their faces beaming with pleasure.

Bucky was across the room and wrapping himself around Steve without a second’s thought. Steve held him tightly, his hands fisting into the back of Bucky’s t-shirt.

“Thank you,” Bucky said, like he hadn’t been saying it over and over since they met. Like the words would ever be enough for what Steve had managed to do. Not just for the shop, for the entire community, but for changing Bucky’s whole life. For _giving_ him a life.

Steve pressed his nose into the crook of Bucky’s neck and held him close, breathing him in before placing a soft kiss to the skin. “So,” he asked, when he pulled back, beaming at Bucky, “how about it, Mr Barnes? Can I count on your vote if I run again?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I dunno,” he said, keeping his voice neutral even though he could feel how widely he was smiling, “what’s your position on foreign aid?”

Steve laughed, a delighted sound of genuine pleasure and kissed him.

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for comments and support everyone. It’s been a blast writing in a new fandom (what was meant to be a very short and silly 4K fic and just wouldn’t end). It’s my first proper AU too, so a massive learning curve. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this - I’m over on tumblr @stuckyrogerz if you wanna follow me there/ give me prompts for anything else.


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